Ever Wonder?
by Sandpiper01
Summary: Ever wonder how Peeta got with the Careers? How he decided that he wanted to proclaim his love for Katniss in front of millions of people? How he dealt with the gruesome Games? **Hunger Games from Peeta's POV.**
1. Reaping Day

Heat. The first thing I feel on the morning of the reaping - as well as every other morning - is heat. I wipe the back of my hand on my forehead, then the back of my neck. There are already voices downstairs, probably Ryan taking over my and Eli's baking duties since he's no longer eligible to be reaped.

I rub my eyes and take a deep breath in to halp me wake up. I pull the blankets that I always end up kicking off around four A.M. when it gets too hot; the fire in the oven is usually lit around that time. I pull on a t-shirt. I can keep my pajama pants on until the bakery opens, against my mother's preference. I'm the one who's getting his life risked today. I look out the window and notice that the sky is starting to turn a lighter blue and only a few bright stars are visible.

"Eli, wake up," I say as I nudge my older brother. He's eighteen, so this will be his last year with his name in the reaping and I pray he doesn't get picked on his _last_ year.

My attempts to wake him up result in a groan.

"Eli, Mom's gonna be mad."

He turns his head away from me. So annoying him is what it's going to take.

"Elijah, you ha-"

My sentence is cut short with a pillow in my face. He hates being called by his first name.

"Whatever."

Mom won't be too harsh on us, anyways.

I walk downstairs and find that my predictions were right; Ryan has taken over my usual baking duties. He kneads some dough and then takes two loaves out of the oven.

"Here, help Ryan. We need extra today," Mom says as she tosses me an apron.

We always make extra bread on reaping days since many people buy extra to celebrate by eating a big dinner.

"Let him have the day to relax," Dad pleads.

"No, we need Peeta _and_ Eli today. They can relax tomorrow," she argues.

"What if one of them isn't here tomorrow?"

Ryan stops what he is doing and stares at the two. Even Mom looks shocked that he made the conversation take a drastic turn like this. The only sound heard is the cracking of the wood in the oven.

"It's okay, I was planning on baking today," I say to try and break the silence.

"Are you sure?" Dad asks me.

"Yeah, only one person out of thousands is going to be picked. And a lot of people signed up for tesserae." I try to sound hopeful, and it seems to have worked.

"That doesn't mean you have immunity," Ryan says.

And believe me, I know it's true. People who never expect it get picked sometimes.

Mom looks around the room, probably wondering where the last family member is.

"Eli!" she calls.

No movement is heard.

"Eli, please get up!" she calls a little louder.

She gives him about thirty more seconds.

"Eli, get your ass out of bed!" she screams loud enough that I'm sure someone would be able to hear it from outside.

Ryan, Dad and I laugh, knowing what's coming next. Eli loves nothing more than sleeping. I take a little flour and dust Eli's apron with it.

"Coming," Eli growls from upstairs.

I position myself at the bottom of the stairs and wait until I hear his foot hit the last step. When it does, I swing the apron in his face, covering him with flour.

He sputters out incoherent words while I laugh uncontrollably. He coughs once before wiping his hand over his face to get the flour off. Once he sees me laughing, he smiles too and tries to put me in a headlock. I try to escape, but instead I'm pushed down, my back slamming into the floor with a loud _smack!_

"Will you two quit? This wrestling happens almost every day now!" Mom shrieks.

"Sorry," we both say and then Eli offers his hand to help me up.

I consider pulling him down as payback, but decide to let it go. Revenge will have to wait for another day. I playfully push his shoulder and in turn receive a glare from Mom.

Eli and I rarely fight. We get along perfectly and we like to rant to each other on how annoying Mom can get. As for Ryan - I'm not sure what his problem is with me, but he seems to take Mom's side on everything.

We all continue baking for about an hour before my mom goes to the front to get everything ready. A couple minutes later, there's a knock on the door and Dad wipes his hands off to go answer it

I crane my neck to see around Dad's back, and to my disappointment, it's only Gale. Sometimes Katniss is with him, but she's probably sleeping in. Good. Her name must be in the reaping ball more than twenty times, so she could use some sleep.

"Good morning, Gale," Dad greets.

"Hi Mr. Mellark," Gale says. "I shot a squirrel for it, but the arrow went through the neck instead of the head. Sorry about that."

"That's fine. There isnt too much meat on the neck, anyways." He changes his attention to Eli. "Would you get that loaf I set on the back counter?"

Eli nods and wraps the loaf in a thick cloth to keep it warm. It's bigger than our normal loaves; seems like a lot for one poorly shot squirrel.

"Thanks," Gale says once the loaf is in his hands.

"And thank you for the squirrel," Dad replies. "Good luck today."

Gale nods once and then the door is closed.

Dad looks around a little before wrapping the squirrel in a cloth and then putting it on the top shelf of a cupboard where Mom can't see without a bench.

"Who was that?" Mom asks as she walks back into the kitchen. "Another Seam beggar?"

"It wasnt another Seam _beggar,_" Dad says.

"Then why did he walking around the back of shops? To trade a rodent for something more valuable?" Mom asks, clearly she had seen the whole thing.

"That boy needs to feed a family just as big as ours," Dad argues.

"Yes, but we have to feed our family with that bread too!" Mom yells.

"We have plenty of bread!" Dad yells just as loud.

"People need something other than bread to live on!" Mom yells.

"Which is why I got the squirrel!"

"That repulsive creature will feed two of us at the most! You-"

"Would you two stop fighting!" I yell over both their voices.

I'm surprised at how angry I sound, so everyone must be shocked. I haven't yelled at Mom in well over six months, maybe even close to a year. Not since she hit me in the side with a bread paddle, giving me a nasty bruise just under my rib cage.

Im shaken from my thoughts when I see everyone staring at me, including Mom; the look in her eyes making me regret my outburst.

"I'm sorry, I just-" I'm cut off by hands coming down roughly on my shoudlers.

"Do _not _disrespect me again," she growls.

Before letting go, she gives my shoulders a painful squeeze. Everyone is quiet when we start working again.

After a few hours of baking, Dad finally speaks up. "You two get ready," he tells Eli and me. He seems even more worried about the reaping than we are.

We leave our aprons on the counter and head upstairs and start looking for the reaping clothes we keep in the back of the closet.

My heart is already starting to beat a little faster. Each year, right before the male tribute's name is called, it feels like it is about to beat out of my chest. And then another person's name is called and I'm free to live for at least one more year.

I put my nerves aside and take a deep breath.

_Your name isn't even entered that many times._

I calm down a little as I change into the soft pants and button down shirt. When I look in the dresser for the comb, I notice Eli is trying to calm his tangled mess of curls with it. I wait for him to finish as I look out the window. Some people are already headed towards the square, and it eventually turns into a steady flow.

"We should probably get going," I say and we head downstairs as I run my hands through my hair.

I'm immediatly confronted by Mom. All the anger in her face has been washed away and the slightest frown is visible on her face.

"I'm sorry if i hurt you today," she says as she wraps me in a hug.

Well. This is new. I know this is only brought on by the reaping. It will pass by tomorrow and we will be back to our normal love/hate relationship.

"I'm sorry I yelled?" I apologize, but it comes out sounding like a question.

"No, you were right. We need to stop fighting," she says.

I nod and then we make our way to the square, which is filling up fast. Eli and I say goodbye to Mom and Dad, and then Ryan and his girlfriend of several years, Sariah. Hopefully we will walk back in just an hour and go back to our daily lives. Eli goes to the eighteen-year-old section and I stand in the sixteen-year-old section. Still, more people come, closing me in. I barely have room to move a foot in any direction.

I look to the stage, which has been set up in front of the justice building like every other year. Mayor Undersee takes his seat next to the infamous Effie Trinket, who is tapping her foot anxiously.

Probably can't wait to see who will be sent to their death next.

The last seat is still empty, waiting for District 12's only living victor: Haymitch Abernathy. The clock strikes two and Mayor Undersee steps up to the podium. He gives his annual speech about the history of Panem, the Dark Days, and how the Hunger Games came to be.

Out of nowhere, Haymitch stumbles on stage while he shouts something unintelligible. The crowd awkwardly applauds the extremely drunk man. He tries to give Effie a hug, but she squeals slightly and is somehow able to avoid it. The people nearby and I chuckle a little under our breaths when we notice her wig is a little sideways.

She smoothens her hair, holds her chin up high, and gives a smile for the cameras. Everyone is watching our district now. Or laughing at it. In her strange, high-pitch, Capitol voice, she announces, "Happy Hunger Games! And may the odds be _ever_ in your favor!"

She steps up to the podium and I can't help but worry about Katniss Everdeen. The girl from the Seam. The girl with the little sister she is so protective of. The girl I have a crush on. Her name must have been entered over twenty times by now since she's signed up for tesserae all these years. Each year I pray it isn't her, and each year I begin to think that my crush on her is more than that. That feeling is back again.

I haven't talked to her very much before, so why should it matter to me if she wasn't here?

"Ladies first!" Effie trills.

My heart races faster when she reaches into the glass ball.

_Please just be some bratty eighteen year old… please._

Everyone is so quiet that I can almost hear the breathes of the few kids that are breathing; the rest of us are involuntarily holding our breath.

Slowly – as if she wants to give us anxiety attacks – Effie opens the folded piece of paper she picked.

"Primrose Everdeen!"

I let out the breath I was holding and feel relief for only a second before realizing that I _do_ know who the name belongs to.

Katniss' sister.

**I didn't think that Peeta's mom would be all that terrible when her son is about to go to certain death. Even the most evil of mothers has to love her son in SOME way :P**

**Please review! Criticism is welcome; I'd like to know if anything is off**


	2. That Annual Feeling

How did she get picked? Surely Katniss would never let her twelve year old sister sign up for tesserae. And out of a thousand names! One. Just one. How-

"Prim!" someone calls from the girl's side. "Prim!"

I can see heads turn to the middle of the crowd, but I don't have to see to know who it is. It's Katniss.

"I volunteer!"

My heart stops. Could she really mean it? She couldn't. She just… No! How could she say that? What thought process did she go through to decide this was the answer to the situation? Anyone who volunteers from District Twelve is sure to die. I refuse to believe that was her hysterical voice gasping out words no one ever even thinks of saying.

"I volunteer as tribute!"

I finally look over and see Katniss standing with one arm protectively in front of Primrose, the other stiff by her side.

"Lovely!" Effie says. "But I believe there's a small matter of introducing the reaping winner and then asking for volunteers, and if one does come forth then we, um…"

"What does it matter?" the mayor asks. He seems confused whether he knows the girl who just asked for a death sentence, but he definitely has had some sort of contact with Katniss in the past. He only has this look on his face when he knows the person being sent off to the Games. "What does it matter?" he repeats. "Let her come forward."

_Do not let her come forward,_ I think.

Behind Katniss, Prim is screaming bloody murder. "No, Katniss! No! You can't go!"

She mumbles something to Prim that I can't hear, then yells, "Let go!"

Gale pries Prim's arms from around Katniss and she thrashes in his arms as he easily carries her away from the stage. If Katniss had chosen not to volunteer, this girl would be dead within the first ten minutes of the games. She's just so small.

"Well bravo!" Effie says, seeming oblivious to the emotional scene that just unfolded right in front of her. "That's the spirit of the games! What's your name?"

"Katniss Everdeen."

"I bet my buttons that was your sister. Don't want her to steal all the glory, do we? Come on everybody! Let's give a big round of applause to our newest tribute!"

No one claps. No one moves. No one does anything. Even the scumbags in the back betting on who will be sent away are still. But in the front of the boy's section, where the eighteen year-olds stand, one person holds his three middle fingers of his left hand to his lips and then holds it out to Katniss. Then another. Finally out of shock, I do the same. And another, until everyone is giving the same hand gesture.

Up on the screen, I can see her bottom lip twitch once, and I know she is close to crying. Luckily, Haymitch gets up from his chair and clumsily throws an arm around her shoulders.

"Look at her. Look at this one!" he shouts and slurs. "I like her! Lots of… spunk! More than you!" Then he turns to the camera, points to it, and repeats, "More than you!"

Is he actually insulting the Capitol? We all hate it but we know not to express our thoughts even when we are away from crowds. And he's yelling it straight to the Capitol itself.

He takes in a deep breath as if to say something else, but he loses his balance and takes a nosedive off the stage, losing consciousness when he hits the hard concrete. Peacekeepers come in and whisk him away on a stretcher as they try to protect whatever dignity District Twelve has left.

"What an exciting day!" Effie says in a not so sturdy voice. "But more excitement to come! It's time to choose our boy tribute!"

Now it's here. The annual feeling. My heart is back to its abnormal pace as if I've just been running and it's beating hard enough for me to feel it in my head. She puts her hand in the bowl and whisks out a name.

Now she's done it. My hands are even shaking at the thought of being chosen to go to a certain death. I close my eyes and take a deep breath and begin telling myself that it won't be me when she starts to open the paper.

"Peeta Mellark!"

The wind is knocked out of me.

It's me. After all these years of hoping and praying that I won't get chosen, she says my name. Then I see Katniss, standing on the stage nearly emotionless. I have to do the same. People part but I don't move. I'm not able to. Finally, a friend from school puts his hand on my shoulder and I make my way to the stage, seeing by Eli's tortured face as I pass by him.

When I reach the top step, I notice the rest of my family that is waiting in the back has Mom's arms wrapped around them in a protective hug.

As the mayor begins to read the Treaty of Treason, I take a quick glance at Katniss, who also had the same idea. We quickly look away, but I can't help but watch her from the corner of my eyes. Does she know me? We're in the same year in school, but I've never had a class with her. The only contact I've ever made with her was when I gave her the bread years ago. Why does it have to be her up here? The one girl I've ever had a crush on, and we're put up here to kill each other.

This makes me hate the Capitol even more.

Prim's head is buried in her mother's dress as the two cry. Gale is in back in his spot among the other eighteen year olds, jaw clenched tight and eyes hard. Eli's face is filled with anger, and the rest of my family has almost composed themselves.

The Capitol only means to take two tributes. But when the odds are not in their favor, you might as well take their loved ones as well.


	3. Faith

HG 3

After the anthem of Panem plays, Katniss and I are ushered into the justice building, where we are each given our own room.

A fancy room at that. A red velvet couch sits in front of a window and the carpet is so fuzzy it makes me want to take my shoes off and walk on it barefoot. This helps me take my mind off everything, even if it is only for a second or two.

A Peacekeeper opens the door and my mother comes in teary eyed. Surprisingly, she wraps me in a hug and I can almost feel the slight sobs that shake her shoulders.

"It's okay, Mom," I say as I awkwardly rub her back, but I can feel tears start to burn my eyes too.

"No it's not." She pulls away and wipes her eyes. "Your brothers and father are composing themselves before they come in here."

I nod, not knowing what else to say. She's probably crying because she knows I won't be coming back. We both know I don't stand a chance against the Careers.

"Maybe District Twelve will finally have a winner." She pauses for a moment, and her voice is quieter when she speaks again. "She's a fighter that one."

She. Whatever sliver of hope I had that she believed in me is gone. She believes it's Katniss that will come home and make District 12 proud, and doesn't even bother to hide it. She doesn't fave any faith in me.

We sit there a little while longer until a Peacekeeper tells us her time is up. She gives me one last hung and kisses my forehead before walking out, crying as she does.

Too bad it takes me going off to my death to bring out her love for me.

Mom's presence is replaced by Eli, Ryan, and Dad. With a quick pace, the three of them make their way over and then sit next to me on the couch.

"I know you'll make it back," Ryan says, his eyes showing that his words are sincere.

"I can't be so sure about-" I'm cut off.

"Then at least try!" Eli shouts.

"I don't give up easily and you know that," I snap back. We are quiet for a little while before I break the silence. With my voice quiet, I tell them, "I just don't want you to get your hopes up. You know those Careers have been training for this their whole lives."

"So? There have been plenty of years when the careers didn't win," Ryan implies.

"And you're good at wrestling," Eli declares. "Remember when you broke that kid's wrist last year?"

Of course I do. It was an accident and he said it was no big deal, but I still feel guilty.

"Yeah," I answer.

"So you have a chance. And I bet no one has been kneading dough or carrying around those huge bags of flour and sugar every day like we have," Eli encourages.

I nod, still not very sure of myself.

"Make sure Katniss and her family stay fed," I say, not thinking before I do. Even when I'm being sent off to die, I'm still a little embarrassed that I have a huge crush on someone I've barely talked to.

"I'll do my best," Dad says. Then he pulls something out of his pocket and twists it around in his hands for a few seconds. "Take this as your token," he tells me as he hands it to me.

It's a tan leather bracelet, almost the same color as my skin. It's braided neatly, but the edges have been frayed and it has stains on it from years of wear. Real leather is expensive. I only know a few people who own anything leather, and that's usually stuff that's been handed down for generations.

"It was my grandfather's," Dad explains. "He made it during the Dark Days as a gift for his father when he came back from fighting, but he never made it back to receive it, so my grandfather kept it. And it's been passed down ever since."

I fasten it around my wrist, wondering why I've never heard the story behind the garment he wears every day. I want to ask him more, but I can hear the Peacekeeper's footsteps outside. I'll have time only for last goodbyes.

"Just remember that allies can only last so long in the Games," Dad warns.

He must mean Katniss. So he knows about her. I've never told him, or anyone, but he must have noticed somewhere. Maybe a few years back when I gave her the bread and received a beating for it. Maybe the way I make sure I'm at the door every Monday morning at dawn to see her trade her kills for bread. I guess I haven't been so secretive about it.

The Peacekeeper opens the door and tells us time's up. Dad pulls is into one big hug, and then him and my brothers look at me with sad eyes as they get up. Dad slips a small, plastic bag of something into my hands, but I don't take the time to see what it is.

"Don't forget those wrestling skills," Eli says, and he shoots me a sad smile.

And that's it. The last time I will ever see them.

I look down at the bag in my hands and notice that it's filled with peanut butter cookies. They're a rarity, but the head Peacekeeper and Mayor Undersee love them and he's the only person we make them for since no one else can afford them. I remember when I was little, I stole one when my mother wasn't looking. Of course, we only made a few and she realized one was missing. Dad tried to cover up for me, but there was no use. I never even got to eat it because I had to put it back. And now I finally get to try one. I almost laugh at the fact that he must have remembered that day too since he gave a few peanut butter cookies to me.

Then all these memories, good and bad, find their way into my mind. My stinging eyes release the tears I've been holding back when I know that the bakery will have its shutters shut and all the doors locked while the rest of the district celebrates that their children were not chosen.

I feel my face to find out what damage I've done. My face is damp, and I know that I only have a few minutes until the Peacekeepers come to rush me to the train station. I look into the glass tabletop to see my reflection and notice it is already too late – my eyes are red around the edges. I start wiping my eyes, but it's no use.

Much too soon, a Peacekeeper comes in and we walk to car that is waiting for Katniss and me.

Before the cameras and journalists swarm us, I catch a glimpse of Katniss. Her eyes are not red like mine are. Instead, she looks bored. Like she's seen more exciting things in her life. I try to do the same, but I'm sure my face turns into a mix between shocked and hysterical. I give up and decide it may be a good idea to show my tears. If the other tributes think I'm weak, then I'll at least be able to protect Katniss in the arena with them forgetting about me.

We make it to the train and we are pointed to our cabins. It was unexpected, but the train's fanciness surpasses that of the Justice Building. I head towards where the Capitol attendant told me my room is, but Haymitch stops me.

"This would be a great time to take a nap, kid," he says as he clumsily places a hand on my shoulder. "That's where I'm going."

He loses his balance as he walks away from me and has to use the wall for support. Shaking my head, I open my door and then walk around the room a little. In the drawers are fancy clothes which look ridiculous and uncomfortable except for one drawer of casual clothes and pajamas. So I close the drawers and lie on my bed. Turning my head away from the blur of trees outside my window, I notice a bathroom to the left. And a shower.

I have only taken baths before, so I jump up right away to try it out. I undress quickly and turn the hand to the left, causing warm – not cold, not lukewarm – water falls on my shoulders like rain. It reminds me of summer days when I was little and we would run home from school, splashing in every puddle we could. I smile at the thought and then spend as much time as possible washing my hair. I turn off the water, as much as I hate to, and then try to get dressed in anything not resembling Capitol fashion.

I take a deep breath in and smell food, so I hurry out of my room and follow an assistant who is pushing a cart with bowls of orange liquid in them.

"Whoa," I say under my breath as I take in all the food in my room. Effie hears me.

"It smells delicious, doesn't it?" she asks.

I don't quite hear her question because I'm focused on all the soup and rolls in front of me. It's a dramatic change from the stale bread I'm used to.

I sit down in front of one a fancy plate as Effie looks at her watch. My mouth is actually watering with all this food in front of me. I'm about to clasp my hand around a steamy roll when she smacks my hand.

"We wait for the others to arrive," she scolds.

Right. That's how it is at home, too.

With one more glance at her watch, she briskly walks away towards Katniss' room.

And she expects me to stay here with all this food in front of me and not touch it? My stomach growls painfully and I remember it's been a while since I ate breakfast before the sun rose. I look behind me; no one is around. Maybe I would have just enough time to grab a roll…

I hear footsteps behind me and I dismiss the thought.

"Where's Haymitch?" Effie asks as she walks in with Katniss.

I turn around at her voice and realize Katniss has changed into something more comfortable, too. It tears at me to notice she still has that terrible look in her eyes like she did during the reaping. But I still find myself staring at her.

"Last time I saw him, he said he was going to take a nap," I say, averting my eyes from Katniss.

"Well, it's been an exhausting day," Effie sighs and the two sit at the table, Katniss beside me and Effie across from us.

I may hate the Capitol, but I definitely don't hate their food. We stuff ourselves with the rich, yet scrumptious stuff, being careful to use the silverware that was placed in front of us.

"At least you two have decent manners," Effie says. "The pair last year ate everything with their hands like a couple of savages. It completely upset my digestion."

After a few minutes of hesitation, Katniss leaves her fork and knife beside her plate and finishes the meal with her hands. It takes everything I have to hold back my laughter and especially my smile as I finish my meal with the utensils, not wanting Effie to be too outraged with us.

Nearly ready to puke because I'm so full, we head to another compartment to watch the other districts' reapings. Some seem too young, too innocent, too much like children to be in the Games. Others who volunteer proudly seem like they can't wait to shed blood. We watch our district's dramatic replay of Katniss volunteering to save Prim and Haymitch knocking himself unconscious.

"Your mentor has a lot to learn about presentation," Effie huffs. "A lot about televised behavior."

I don't bother to try and keep my laughter to myself. "He was drunk," I say. "He's drunk every year."

"Every day," Katniss adds.

She smirks, and it's the first bit of happiness I've seen from her today.

"Yes," Effie hisses, angry that we're laughing. "How odd you two find it amusing. You know your mentor is your lifeline to the world in these Games. The one who advises you, lines up your sponsors, and dictates the presentation of any gifts. Haymitch can well be the difference between your life and your death!"

Haymitch suddenly staggers into the compartment. "I miss supper?" he slurs. His eyes grow wide for a second and he holds his stomach, and I know what's coming next. With another rocky sway, he vomits on the expensive carpet and falls into his own mess.

"So laugh away!" Effie says, and she daintily walks past Haymitch and leaves the room.

By the look that was in Katniss and Effie's eyes, I can tell that the chances for District 12 to have another victor are gone.

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><p><strong>If you havent noticed by now, one chapter equals one chapter in the book. I might have to split some chapters up later on 'cause they're really long.<strong>


	4. Train Ride

**How could I be so cruel? I forgot to respond to my reviewers:( Thanks to Reese1603 (thanks for the tip, btw. You were right) and Val.**

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><p>Pathetically, Haymitch tries to get up from his own mess but fails. The smell is horrendous, and I wonder how he could drink something that can burn my nose from across the room. Katniss and I exchange a glance. Even if we don't want to believe it, Haymitch is our only chance for survival. We help him up by grabbing his arms.<p>

"I tripped?" Haymitch asks. "Smells bad."

"Let's get you back to your room," I tell him, trying to hold down massive dinner when I see him wipe his hand on his face, covering it with vomit.

We make it back to his room and set him in the tub to let the water from the shower run over him. I want to get as much puke off him as possible before I go near him again. But Katniss seems to be doing even worse than me. She keeps turning her head to her shoulder, and I can tell she's doing her best to keep her plugging her nose a secret. But I still notice.

"It's okay. I'll take it from here," I tell her.

"All right," she says. "I can send one of the Capitol people to help you."

"No," I say quickly. "I don't want them."

I don't want anything to do with the people who want to watch me fight to the death. As much as I would like some help, Katniss shouldn't have to deal with this; she seems much more squeamish than me.

I sigh as I look down at Haymitch's disoriented form. I unbutton his shirt, throw it behind me, and then I pour body wash on him. I turn the shower on a jet setting and it foams the body wash. I set it back to normal and it rinses the bubbles away from him, allowing me to not have to touch any vomit.

Jeez, I don't want to do this…

I pull of his pants but decide only to go that far – I don't want to know my mentor that well – and throw them in the pile with the shirt. I turn off the water and find a robe.

"Here, Haymitch," I say.

He opens his eyes again and stares at me holding the robe like he doesn't know what to do with it.

"Well, are you planning on wearing it?" I ask him.

I pull him up as he makes a small "hmph" noise and he puts the robe on. I lead him back to his bed, where he ungracefully plops down and resumes sleeping.

I run back to my room, wanting to take a shower myself. I look outside and then notice the lights in the distance. How far had we traveled in just a few hours? We couldn't be any farther than District 10, could we?

I quickly take a shower and then find comfy pajamas, softer than anything I've ever owned. When I settle into bed and my head hits the pillows, I fall asleep almost immediately.

I wake up to the sound of an annoying Capitol voice. Effie. "Wake up, Peeta! It's going to be a big, big, big day!"

I roll over and squeeze the pillow around my ears like Eli does every morning, hoping to drown the sound out. Waking up to her voice reminds me before I even open my eyes that I'm not home. I grit my teeth and push any thoughts of home aside. I already cried, already got it over with. I'm not going back and crying won't help.

I change into nearly the same clothes as yesterday and splash my face with cold water. Today will be a big day like Effie said - we should be arriving in the Capitol soon.

I make my way to the compartment where we ate dinner last night and find an abundant amount of rolls and fruit on the table and Haymitch talking to Effie.

"Look who finally decided to wake up," Haymitch says.

I shrug as I sit down and a steaming mug is placed in front of me. The two stare at me as I push the cup to the side and pay attention to the fruit.

"You don't want it?" Effie asks.

"I don't like coffee," I answer truthfully.

"That's good 'cause it's not coffee," Haymitch tells me. "It's called hot chocolate. Capitol kids love it."

I pull the mug towards me and take a deep breath in. It smells chocolaty, that's for sure. I take a small, cautious sip and then I'm surprised by how good it tastes. I take another sip as Haymitch opens his mouth to say something.

"So you going to help me on all the nights I pass out?" he asks.

I choke on my hot chocolate and I'm forced to cough. I'm not going to be his personal clean-up crew. Haymitch guffaws and Effie pushes her coffee away, seeming to have lost her appetite.

Haymitch wraps his arms around her shoulders and says to her, "Hey, I'm just messing with him!"

She does not think this is funny because she holds his thumb between her pointer finger and thumb and then throws his arm off her. She smoothens her pink hair and briskly gets up, coffee in hand.

Haymitch continues to laugh quietly and I pick up a roll and twist it around in my hands. Just thinking about last night makes my stomach a little queasy. I look up when Effie leaves the room, brushing by Katniss on her way out.

Haymitch waves Katniss over to sit down with us. "Sit down! Sit down!"

People come by and put in front of us a massive plate of scrambled eggs, toast, and ham. Again, one meal has the equivalent of one or two months of meat for me. I see Katniss eyeing the cup of hot chocolate.

"They call it hot chocolate. It's good," I tell her.

We continue eating, taking fruit off the tray in the middle and going back to the bread basket over and over again. Katniss finishes and sits back in her seat, but I keep eating. The rolls taste amazing when they're dipped in hot chocolate.

"So, you're supposed to give us advice," Katniss says to Haymitch.

"Here's some advice. Stay alive," Haymitch says, and then he starts laughing uncontrollably.

How could he be joking? Two lives depend on him and he's joking? By looking at him, I realize we just might be doomed; he's been pouring liquor into his juice all through breakfast. No wonder District 12 hasn't had a victor since him – the past tributes have had a drunkard as a mentor who doesn't give a crap.

"That's very funny," I say, my voice dripping with sarcasm.

Hating the fact that he would rather get drunk than help us, I knock the glass out of his hands and it falls to the floor, shattering into minuscule pieces.

Before I have time to take back what I've done and apologize, I'm sent to the floor. Did he really just punch me? I hear a thump on the table and all the dishes clink.

"Well what's this?" Haymitch asks as I push myself up. "Did I actually get a pair of fighters this year?"

I slide my jaw side to side and wince as it cracks the way knuckles do. I reach for the ice under the fruit tureen, but Haymitch stops me before I can get it on my jaw.

"No. Let the bruise show. The audience will think you've mixed it up with another tribute before you've even made it into the arena," Haymitch tells me.

"That's against the rules," I say, putting the ice back.

"Only if they catch you. The bruise will say you fought, you weren't caught, even better." Then he turns to Katniss. "Can you hit anything with that knife besides the table?"

She pulls the knife from the table and throws it at the wall, lodging it in between two panels. Yep, I'll be dead the first minute she sees me in the arena. But judging by the look on her face, she seems surprised that it stuck.

"Stand over there. Both of you," Haymitch orders and he nods to the middle of the room. He circles us like prey, poking and examining us. "Well, you're not entirely hopeless. Seem fit. And once the stylists get a hold of you, you'll be attractive enough."

Katniss and I exchange a glance. He somewhat insulted us, but gave us a little flash of hope.

"All right," Haymitch begins. "I'll make a deal with you. You don't interfere with my drinking and I'll stay sober enough to help you. But you have to do exactly as I say."

Not exactly the best deal, but it's better than nothing.

"Fine," I say.

"So help us," Katniss says to Haymitch. "When we get to the arena, what's the best strategy at the Cornucopia for someone-"

"One thing at a time. In a few minutes, we'll be pulling into the station. You'll be put in the hands of your stylists. You're not going to like what they do. But no matter what it is, don't resist."

"But-" Katniss starts.

"No buts. Don't resist."

With one last glare to make sure we follow directions, he leaves the room with a bottle of spirits. Katniss and I stand in the same spot, keeping silent. We must be going through a tunnel because it's pitch black, but a few lights are still on.

After being in the tunnel for what seems like forever, the train slows and it's starting to get light again outside. Knowing what lies outside those windows, we both dart up to them and look out.

There it is: the Capitol and all its glory. It seemed magnificent on TV, but it's nowhere near the same as seeing it in person. Buildings go higher than birds can fly. Streets are paved and kept clean to snooty Capitol standards. And the people. It's like a million Effies walking around.

I see the crowd of people pointing, jumping, even screaming for us. So many opportunities for sponsors. So I put on my best smile and wave to them. Even this simple gesture sends them into mayhem.

I look over once we can no longer see them and notice Katniss staring at me, probably wondering why I'm even allowing them eye contact from me. "Who knows?" I say. "One of them may be rich."

She has a thoughtful look on her face, but I have no idea what's going on in that head of hers.

* * *

><p><strong>Please Review!<strong>


	5. Fire

"You'll look amazing when we're done with you!" a woman named Mariana trills. Her plum colored hair is curly, and it matches her lipstick exactly. She wears ridiculous shoes that make her taller than she really is when she is plenty tall without them. They look so uncomfortable; I don't know why people even bother to wear them.

So far, she and another Capitol _genius_, Pendarus, have washed my hair, scrubbed my skin so it feels like nothing is left, and rubbed my nails to make them shiny. I look over and see Pendarus scooping out tan goop onto his fingers. I raise my eyebrows, curious as to what it is, but he just globs the sticky stuff onto my upper lip.

"Now don't move," he tells me.

I do as I'm told.

"You look like a completely different person now that all that filth is gone!" Emilia says. She's short, maybe not even up to my shoulder when I'm standing up. She's the one that should be wearing the ridiculous high heels, not Mariana. Her brown hair falls into perfect curls at her elbows.

"And those eyes - they're beautiful!" Mariana gawks. "You know what would make them pop even more?" She looks to the other two, who are thinking for a moment.

"Green eyeliner?" Pendarus suggests.

"Yes! Or maybe even gold," Emilia says.

So this is what they talk about. What color will ring a person's eyes. All I know is that they are _not_ covering my eyelids in any color. I don't think I've ever seen a male tribute with colorful eyeliner, and I don't want to be the first. I regret making that deal with Haymitch.

Pendarus checks his watch and then looks back to me.

"This'll be quick," he says.

_R-i-i-i-p!_

"Ow!" I yell and my hand shoots to the pain under my nose. I don't mean to be rude, but now their beauty techniques are causing pain.

"Sorry about that, but tributes can't have a mustache!" Pendarus tells me. "It was only noticeable up close, but in the arena, you never know how close those cameras might be!"

I resist the urge to roll my eyes. Back in District 12, even beards were common among some older Seam men. I don't see why a little peach fuzz would matter.

Not stopping there, they also use the goop to pluck the rest of my face. They all stare at me when I stand up, and smile smugly at their past two hours of work. I couldn't resemble a Capitol freak too much. Could they have tweaked me that much that I don't even look like myself?

"You're going to blow Portia away!" Pendarus exclaims, clasping his hands together.

"You look even more handsome than before; sponsors will be lining up for you!" Mariana says.

Emilia pulls off my robe, sets it on the chair I was laying on, and then follows the other two out the door.

I look around the white room and wonder what they did to Katniss. The girls always have more done to them. They come out with flushed cheeks, huge eyelashes, and dark eyes. Surely they plucked her like a bird, just like they did to my face.

For the first time today, I feel self-conscious when a woman wearing high heels like Mariana walks in. Her eyelashes are too big and her lips are glossy looking, but that seems to be the only thing about her that resembles a Capitol citizen. Except her clothes, of course. Maybe not as colorful as Effie's, but they still show that she is into Capitol fashion.

"Hello, Peeta," she says. "I'm Portia, your stylist."

"Hello," I say cautiously.

She doesn't say another word; instead she smiles sweetly and then walks around me. Nudity hasn't bothered me before, but people have never purposely stared at me before. This woman is taking in everything about me. I want to move my hands away from my side to offer some coverage, but know she would probably just put them back.

"You're a baker, correct?" she asks.

"Yes."

"So, you must be doing some sort of training." I follow her gaze to my arms, and I realize where she is getting this question from.

"No, but I have to bring in bags of flour or sugar from the market."

She nods, then hands me my robe.

"We'll talk some more over lunch," she says as she leads me to the door.

We walk into another fancy room when I notice a large window facing towards the city. It's still early in the day, no later than noon. I sit on a fancy red couch and Portia sits across from me. I'm expecting lunch to be brought to us like it was on the train, it comes up on a platter that rises from the table.

"I've never seen you on TV before. Are you new?" I ask, trying to make conversation as I reach for mouth-watering chicken.

"Yes, Cinna, Katniss' stylist, and I are both new," she answers.

"But since you're new, they gave you the District that's best known for its drunk victor," I say with a weird laugh, knowing that it's true.

"Actually, we picked your district."

I put down my food and stare at her. Nothing about her indicates that she's lying. Why would anyone want our district?

"District Twelve needs to be given a chance. Many people have overlooked its tributes, and this year we're going to make sure that isn't going to happen," she says.

"So… our outfits?" I question.

"Yes! And I'm sure you're tired of seeing plain old black."

"I think all of Panem is."

"Well, we've focused on the coal _miners_ for too many years now, but never the coal itself. And what do we do with coal?"

"Burn it?"

"And that's where we get our color from!"

Now I'm just confused. What are they going to do, burn us? Maybe cover us in soot. Coal dust. Who knows? But I don't like where this is going.

Portia must see my confusion, because she explains. "You and Katniss are going to be on fire."

Wonderful. Just wonderful. Barbecued tributes, exactly what Panem wants.

"But don't worry; your outfit will keep you safe," she continues.

For some reason, this doesn't help at all

* * *

><p>How did I get here? I went from being at home, worrying about the reaping and baking to standing in a black outfit about to be set on fire.<p>

I pull the cape that's just been put on me from behind and look at it. Orange, yellow, and red flames stream over it and flow into the headpiece. Maybe the fire won't work and we'll just be left with these; they're magnificent enough without the real flames.

I follow Portia to where the chariot awaits and see Katniss, whose face lights up a little when she sees me. I can't help but smile a little too. We don't have time to say anything as we are rushed to our coal black chariot, where Portia and Cinna arrange our positions.

"What do you think?" Katniss whispers to me. "About the fire?"

"I'll rip off your cape if you'll rip off mine," I say. Although I trust Portia to some extent, this is by far pushing the limit. Even if we can rip off the capes, we could still suffer burns, leaving us more vulnerable in the arena.

"Deal. I know we promised Haymitch we'd do exactly what they said, but I don't think he considered this angle," she says.

"Where is Haymitch, anyways? Isn't he supposed to protect us from this sort of thing?" I ask.

"With all the alcohol in him, it's probably not advisable to have him near an open flame," Katniss responds.

And then we're both laughing. It comes easily, too easily, and I realize it's because of how nervous we both are.

Suddenly the anthem is blaring, making sure everyone can hear. Gigantic sliding doors open and the other districts' horses begin walking and I watch in awe as all the other chariots roll along ahead of us. I'm watching District 11 leave, not quite able to make out what the tributes' outfits are, when Cinna hops onto our chariot with a lighted torch.

"Here we go then," he says. Then he lights our capes on fire and I wait for the heat. But nothing happens. I feel only a tickling where ever the flames are close. Cinna sighs out of relief. "It works." He puts his hand under Katniss' chin. "Remember. Heads high. Smiles. They're going to love you!" He looks over to me, and I nod to tell him I'll do the same.

He hops off the chariot, but turns around quickly as if he forgot something. He tries shouting to us, and I can barely make out the words.

"What's he saying?" Katniss asks me. I look at her for the first time since her fire's been lit. She's breathtaking, and I get that feeling again. Like it's not just some silly crush.

"I think he said to hold hands," I say.

I take her right hand in my left happily, and then we see Cinna give us a thumb up. With her fingers intertwined with mine, I can't stop the faster pace my heart takes up.

Everyone seems to turn to us as the crowd erupts into cheers. Adoring screams of "District Twelve!" are shouted by so many people that it's hard to make out the words.

I smile wide and then look to one of the screens that are displaying us, and I can see why the crowd is reacting this way. The sun is nearly gone, leaving a trace of pink on the horizon, so our flames stand out even more. I can imagine tens, maybe even hundreds of sponsors begging Effie to help us in the arena.

I wave to the people wearing their hideous clothes. The ones that are close enough for me to make eye contact with them scream and turn to their neighbors. Flowers are thrown at the chariot and people continue to scream my name and Katniss'.

I glance over to the other side of the crowd and see Katniss blowing kisses to the crowd. Despite her confidence, she still has by hand in a death grip. People are throwing flowers. Some are looking to each other and then screaming after I make eye contact with them. Others are pretending to catch the kisses Katniss is blowing into the crowd.

I don't realize how unsteady I am until Katniss tries to take her hand away when we reach the city circle. "No, don't let go of me," I say. "Please. I might fall off this thing."

I'm surprised how I sound, so desperate to have here there to help me stay grounded.

"Okay," she says.

She keeps holding on, but refrains from strangling my hand.

Our chariots stop gracefully at the same time the music stops, but the cheers continue. We don't escape the noise until we are in the Training Center and the doors close behind us. I see Portia and Cinna waiting for us at the same time I notice all the tributes staring at us with envy. We've done what our stylists promised: we made an impression. Katniss and I make it back onto solid ground here Portia extinguishes our outfits.

I look to Katniss as she looks at our hands, and then she opens her fingers and we massage our hands. The tips of my fingers tingle as the blood rushes back into them, and I hope I didn't grasp her hands as hard as she did mine.

"Thanks for keeping a hold of me," I say. "I was getting a little shaky there."

"It didn't show. I'm sure no one noticed," she reassures me.

"I'm sure they didn't notice anything but you. You should wear flames more often. They suit you."

Where did that come from? It's the truth, but why did I say that? I wasn't thinking. That's the only reason I can come up with. I regret my remark, but I need her to know that I'm on her side.

I smile a little, trying to hide my feelings. But whatever I did, it must have triggered something to make her kiss me on the cheek, sending shivers down my back.


	6. To the Roof

We make our way to the twelfth floor of the Training Center and I have to admit that I love the elevator. The glass walls let us see the entire city, and I take a few steps towards the edge. We're moving fast, and the people get smaller and smaller. It's enough to take my mind off everything until we reach our floor.

While we walk to our quarters, Effie goes on and on about sponsors and her "clever remarks." We finally stop talking when we reach Katniss' room and say good-bye. I have my hand on the door to my room that's not too far from hers when Cinna rests his hand on my shoulder.

"Follow me. I want to show you something," he tells me.

I nod and I follow him to a flight of stairs that end up leading to the roof. The view is even more breathtaking than the elevator ride. Despite the warm temperatures this morning, the wind is cold enough to give me goose bumps. Aside from the loud wind, wind chimes in a small garden are adding to the noise.

"It's really loud out here," I say.

"That's the point," Cinna says a little quieter than me.

I smile when I realize that even the Capitol has blind spots.

I'm tempted to look over the railing to the street below, and I eventually cave in. People are moving around like little ants. Crazy colored ants. It's a long way down – the fall could easily kill anyone. There's no way the Capitol would let tributes up here. If tributes really wanted to avoid going into the Games, they could just jump off the edge.

"Isn't anyone worried that tributes would try to jump?" I ask.

"You can't, there's a force field," Cinna answers.

Now I'm curious. He seems to sense this, and he reaches out a few feet over the railing. There's a zap and he jerks his hand back.

"It will just throw you right back," he says.

I stick my hand out too, wondering how it works. I feel a jolt run up my arm and my hand is thrown back with force. I look closer, amazed. It's like there is nothing but air. I even squint my eyes; I still can't see anything.

"You can come up here almost anytime you want," Cinna says. "But if you're going to talk about something you don't want anyone to hear, just make sure it's loud enough."

"Yeah, I'll remember that," I say.

Cinna nods and then walks away, leaving me alone on the rooftop. The wind starts to sound eerie with no one else around. With one last glance at the city, I walk back down to my quarters. I open the door for the first time and I'm amazed at how luxurious it is, but not surprised. I look around and take it all in. the fluffy bed sheets, a huge window, the closet filled with pricy Capitol clothes, and a bathroom. I look to the bedside table and see a menu. A menu that has so many choices I don't think I want to take the time to read it all. Instead, I take a shower and attempt to program the thing.

At first, the water is too hot. Then soap bubbles rain down on me, and I'm engulfed in a girly, sweet smell I can't put a name on. After a while of manipulating the buttons, I give up and take a cold shower and get over the fact that I smell like flowers.

I spend the rest of the time trying little appetizers and rolls from the menu as I look out the window to the Capitol. The sun is completely gone, and now the city sparkles with its multicolored lights. Eventually, Portia calls me to dinner.

We meet up with Cinna while Effie walks past us, probably to fetch Katniss. Cinna and Portia talk quietly to each other as they follow me to the balcony. There's probably a force field here, too. I stick my hand out to make sure, and I get that little surge up my arm as my hand is jerked back. I turn around when I hear Cinna and Portia laughing quietly.

"Are you going to test everywhere for a force field now?" Cinna asks through chuckles.

"Just curious," I say with a shrug.

I hear the click of Effie's shoes and take it as a chance to sit down for dinner. When a young man dressed in white puts a dark drink in front of me, I know exactly what to do with it. Avoid it. Haymitch was drinking wine on the train over here, and I don't want to turn out like him.

Except Katniss has a different idea. She takes a small sip of it, but then sets it back down with an odd expression. I'm curious enough to at least try it since I've never had alcohol before. I'm suddenly aware of why she put it back down. It's bitter, and leaves my mouth with a dry feeling. Yep, I'll definitely be avoiding this.

We eat soup bread, greens, beef – almost everything a person could ever want and it's right here in front of us. This is more variety than I think I've eaten in my entire life. Throughout dinner I glance at our server a couple times. His throat moves in an odd way every once in a while, then I realize that he's swallowing every time he does that. I forget about it and pay attention to the conversations. I eat my fill but suddenly regret it once I realize how rich it was. But I still want this burning cake they just set in front of me…

"What makes it burn?" Katniss asks. "Is it the alcohol? That's the last thing I wa – oh! I know you!"

I follow her gaze to a girl with red hair and fair skin. She's wearing the same white outfit as our other server. When she sees everyone looking at her, her eyes grow wide and she swallows the same strange way as her counterpart.

The two stylists, Effie, and Haymitch are all staring at Katniss with wide eyes. How could she know someone in the Capitol?

"Don't be ridiculous, Katniss. How could you possibly know an Avox?" Effie says, and then she shakes her head. "The very thought."

"What's an Avox?" Katniss asks, her features twisting up a bit in confusion.

"Someone who committed a crime. They cut her tongue so she can't speak," Haymitch answers. "She's probably a traitor of some sort. Not likely you'd know her."

But by the way Katniss is looking at him, I can tell she really thinks she knows the Avox girl.

"And even if you did," Effie adds, "You're not to speak to one of them unless it's to give an order. Of course, you don't really know her."

Katniss still has that same look on her face, and I know that she or the Avox girl will get punished of someone realizes that Katniss knows her. She stammers when she speaks again. "No, I guess not. I just-"

"Delly Cartwright," I say as I snap my fingers, attempting to save her before she does any more damage. "That's who it is. I kept thinking she looked familiar as well. Then I realized she's a dead ringer for Delly."

Ha. Delly, the girl with blonde hair and pasty skin. She looks nothing like this Avox girl. But Delly is one of my closest friends, and it was the first name that came to mind. No one in the Capitol will know what Delly looks like, anyway.

"Of course. That's who I was thinking of. It must be the hair," Katniss says.

"Something about the eyes, too," I add, just to be safe.

Katniss throws me a glance and I take it as a thank you. I give her a little half smile, probably unnoticeable to the others at the table.

"Oh, well. If that's all it is," Cinna sighs; he seems relieved as well as everyone else. "And yes, the cake has spirits, but all the alcohol has burned off. I ordered it specially in honor of your fiery debut."

We finish the decadent cake – despite how full I already am – and then head into another room to watch the opening ceremonies. Its then that I realize how spectacular our outfits really were.

Haymitch asks whose idea the hand holding was when we come up on screen, and Portia tells him, "Cinna's."

"Just the perfect touch of rebellion," Haymitch says. "Very nice."

Rebellion? That was not meant to be a rebellious act. At least it wasn't for Katniss and me. And Cinna lives in the Capitol. He gets everything he wants and needs just like the rest of the citizens here. As far as I know, he doesn't have any reason to rebel against the Capitol.

"Tomorrow morning is the first training session. Meet me for breakfast and I'll tell you exactly how I want you to play it," Haymitch says. "Now go get some sleep while the grown-ups talk."

We walk to our rooms together, but when we reach hers I lean against the door frame, getting her to pay attention to me. I need to know where she knows the Avox girl from. "So, Delly Cartwright. Imagine finding her lookalike here," I say. She's hesitating as she tries to think of something to say, so I keep talking, remembering the roof. "Have you been up to the roof yet?" I ask. She shakes her head. "Cinna showed me. You can practically see the whole city. The wind's a bit loud, though." Hopefully she understood what I meant.

"Can we just go up?" she asks.

"Sure. Come one."

I lead her to the roof the same way Cinna showed me. When we get there, the wind is still as loud as it was earlier this evening and she follows me to the edge.

"I asked Cinna why they let us up here. Weren't they worried that some of the tributes might decide to jump over the side?" I say.

"What did he say?" she asks.

"You can't." I hold my hand out and it jerks back. "Some kind of electric field throws you back on the roof."

"Always worried about our safety. Do you think they're watching us now?"

"Maybe." Cinna took me to the garden with the wind chimes earlier, so maybe it would be safer there. "Come see the garden."

She looks up at all the wind chimes and I watch her, waiting for her to tell me from where she knows the Avox girl. She messes with a flower while she speaks.

"We were hunting in the woods one day. Hidden, waiting for game," she whispers.

"You and your father?" I ask in the same low tone as her.

"No, my friend Gale."

Gale. She's always in the woods with him, and I can't help the jealousy I feel. But I push it aside and listen to her story. She talks about a hovercraft appearing out of nowhere, and the girl being taken but how the boy she was with was speared. The look of desperation in the girl's eyes. How the birds started singing again once the hovercraft was gone.

She starts shivering after I ask her if they saw her, and I'm sure she knows even though she says she isn't sure.

"You're shivering," I say as I take off my jacket and wrap it around her shoulders. I zip it up and then try to keep the conversation going. "They were from here?" She nods, her eyes focused on something else. "Where do you suppose they were going?"

"I don't know that. Or why they would leave here."

"I'd leave here." Crap! I quickly look around, knowing I could very easily pay in the arena for saying that. "I'd go home if they let me. But you have to admit, the food's prime."

That was close. The one time I end up talking louder, and I say _that_.

"It's getting chilly. We better go in," I tell her, and we head inside the warm dome. "Your friend Gale. He's the one who took your sister away from the reaping?"

"Yes. Do you know him?" she asks.

"Not really. I hear the girls talk about him a lot. I thought he was your cousin or something. You favor each other."

"No, we're not related."

I don't know where the thought of Gale came from, but I was curious. I'm almost positive ha has a crush on Katniss, but he could easily have a thing for one of the many girls swooning for him.

"Did he come say good-bye to you?" I ask, my curiosity still controlling my mouth.

"Yes." She looks at me for a moment, probably wondering why I'm asking her about her life back home. "So did your father. He brought me cookies."

He gave her some too? So he _is_ making sure they stay fed. But he's always kept track of Katniss and her family, trading two loaves of fresh bread for only one squirrel and such. "Really? Well, he likes you and your sister. I think he wishes he had a daughter instead of a houseful of boys."

He never says it, but it's easy to see that he isn't fond of my brothers and me wrestling or whenever we brought dirt back into the bakery when we were younger. Of course, he would never say such a thing; he was careful not to upset people. He actually cared about other people.

"He knew your mother when they were kids," I say quietly, remembering the story he told me years ago.

"Oh yes. She grew up in town," Katniss says.

I almost tell her the story, but she yawns and I think it could go without being told. We're at my door, anyways, and she hands me my jacket.

"See you in the morning then," she says.

"See you."

I open the door but watch for a moment as she walks to hers. Every time I feel myself getting more attached. I learn more and more about her whenever we talk, which only makes me fall harder. But our time like this will be short. In a few days, we'll be in the arena. So I try to push my feelings aside with no luck and change into pajamas. I go straight to bed, thinking of Katniss as I fall asleep.

* * *

><p><strong>I think I'll be able to update once a week or even more often than that from now on. (I've already written up to where Peeta gets with the Careers) :D So expect something every weekend!<strong>

**Anyways, like? Not like? Whatever it is, leave it in a review!**


	7. Drunken Maggots

I must have slept in, because I wake up to a loud pounding on my door.

"Breakfast!"

Haymitch. For some reason, I'm annoyed by this even more than Effie's voice waking me up yesterday.

I yell back, "Okay!" but it seems barely audible.

I get up and splash water on my face, and then put on the clothes that have somehow appeared on my bedside table overnight. It's creepy to know that someone was able to walk in and put these here without waking me up. I quickly put on the black pants, a burgundy tunic, and the leather shoes.

When I walk out into the hallway, Haymitch is leaning against the wall with a bored expression on his face.

"Good morning, Haymitch," I say when I realize he had no plans on saying it first.

"Let's go eat," he grumbles. He's obviously not a morning person.

We enter the dining room and then fill our plates as we greet Katniss, who is wearing the same outfit as me. How long will this go on? Eventually we will have to be presented as two different tributes. We eat silently, except for a short conversation about our outfits from yesterday. When Haymitch finishes his breakfast, he takes a big gulp of alcohol and then leans his elbows on the table.

"So, let's get down to business. Training. First off, if you like, I'll coach you separately," He tells us. "Choose now."

"Why would you need to coach us separately?" Katniss asks before I can say anything.

"Say if you had a secret skill you might not want the other to know."

How would I have acquired any skills from baking? I already know that Katniss is good at archery and I recently found out she can handle a knife fairly well, too. "I don't have any secret skills," I say. "And I already know what yours is, right? I mean, I've eaten enough of your squirrels."

Sometimes we ate squirrels back at home – it was better than living off of bread. We never stayed full for very long, but with any type of protein, our dinner would last almost until the next morning.

"You can coach us together," Katniss tells Haymitch, and I nod.

"All right. So give me some idea of what you can do," Haymitch says.

What _can_ I do? Unless I can bake someone to death, nothing. And I suddenly feel angry that Katniss stands a much better chance than I do in these Games. "I can't do anything," I say. "Unless you count baking bread."

"Sorry, I don't," Haymitch answers. "Katniss. I already know you're handy with a knife."

"Not really. But I can hunt with a bow and arrow," she says.

"And you're good?" asks Haymitch.

"I'm alright," she says.

All right? The squirrels she kill are always shot cleanly through the head, away from the meat we actually eat. A person that can do that every time is more than "alright."

"She's excellent," I correct. "My father buys her squirrels. He always comments on how the arrows never pierce the body. She hits everyone in the eye. It's the same with the rabbits she sells the butcher. She can even bring down deer."

I begin to think that I've said too much. She would hate it if she found out that I've been keeping tabs on her to make sure she's safe. But I have been, ever since I realized how close she came to starving to death.

"What are you doing?" she asks me.

"What are you doing? If he's going to help you, he has to know what you're capable of. Don't underrate yourself," I tell her.

The scowl on her face hardens. "What about you? I've seen you in the market. You can lift hundred-pound bags of flour. Tell him that. That's not nothing.

She's been watching me too? I want to feel happy about this, but I can't. Not when she's being this ridiculous. Lifting things won't help me in the arena.

"Yes, and I'm sure the arena will be full of bags of flour for me to chuck at people. It's not like being able to use a weapon. You know it isn't."

"He can wrestle. He came in second in our school competition last year, only after his brother," she tells Haymitch.

"What use is that? How many times have you seen someone wrestle someone to death?" I ask.

"There's always hand-to-hand combat. All you need is to come up with a knife, and you'll at least stand a chance. If I get jumped, I'm dead!" she says, her voice rising in anger.

I can feel myself getting angrier as the conversation goes on. "But you won't! You'll be living up in some tree eating raw squirrels and picking off people with arrows. You know what my mother said to me when she came to say goodbye, as if to cheer me up, she said maybe District Twelve will finally have a winner. Then I realized, she didn't mean me, she meant you!"

"Oh, she meant you," Katniss says with a wave of dismissal.

"She said, 'she's a survivor, that one.' _She_ is."

Tears threaten to burn my eyes when I remember that my own mother has no faith in me, and that the rest of my family has their doubts as well. I swallow, getting rid of the lump in my throat quickly.

Katniss' voice is quiet and she looks away from my eyes when she speaks. "But only because someone helped me."

So she does remember. Images of her, weak and skinny from hunger, run through my mind and I push them away. I couldn't stand to see her like that. It was worth the beating from my mother. Well worth it. I shrug, hopefully making her realize it wasn't a big deal. Any anger I felt before is gone. "People will help you in the arena. They'll be tripping over each other to sponsor you."

"No more than you," she says.

I roll my eyes, now disgusted at how absurd she is. "She has no idea. The effect she can have," I tell Haymitch.

And it's true. Capitol freaks are probably lining up to sponsor her because she saved Prim from going into the Games. She smiled and blew kisses at the crowd, making them go crazy. And she's beautiful. Hundreds of guys will be wanting her to win.

We sit in silence for a minute before Haymitch speaks up. "Well, then. Well, well, well. Katniss, there's no guarantee that there'll be bows and arrows in the arena, but during your private game session with the Gamemakers, show them what you can do. Until then, stay clear of archery. Are you good at trapping?"

"I know a few basic snares," she admits.

"That might be significant in terms of food," Haymitch says. "And Peeta, she's right. Never underestimate strength in the arena. Very often, physical power tilts the advantage to a player. In the training center, they will have weights, but don't reveal how much you can lift in front of other tributes. The plan's the same for both of you. You go to group training. Spend time learning something you don't know. Throw a spear. Swing a mace. Learn a decent knot. Save showing what you're best at until private sessions. Are we clear?"

Katniss and I nod.

"One last thing. In public, I want you by each other's side at every minute."

I open my mouth to object about how that could hurt us in the arena, but Haymitch slams his fist on the table. "Every minute! You agreed to do as I said! You will be together, you will appear amiable to each other. Now get out. Meet Effie at the elevator at ten for training."

I get up slower than Katniss does, and I'm only halfway to my door when I hear hers slam. Hard. Is she mad because we fought, or because Haymitch told us to stay together? Whatever it is, she's just been pushed farther away from me. But maybe it's for the best. I can't afford to get too attached to her. And her slamming the door made it a bit easier.

I finish the short walk to my room and plop down on the bed. Haymitch's plan will work fine with me. I could spend every minute of every day with Katniss and be ecstatic. But Katniss - I wasn't sure until now. It shouldn't be that miserable of a task to at least act like she likes me in public. She has no reason to hate me! I've been nothing but nice to her, even helping her just now. She has no reason…

Unless she thinks I'm trying to kill her. We are both tributes, being sent here to fight to the death. But how do I make her realize that I'm trying to _save_ her? Being nicer would only increase any of her suspicions. Being rude would make me look like an opponent. Revealing by true feelings for her – what would that do? Confuse her? She wouldn't know if it was the truth or if I was just another person wanting her dead.

I have a few minutes before ten. I brush my teeth and run my fingers through my hair, then met Effie and Katniss for an awkward elevator ride down to the training room. When the doors open, we walk into a huge gymnasium. Someone puts the number _12_ on our backs and I take in all the station. Some with weapons. Some obstacle courses. Snares. Just about everything we might encounter in the arena.

We join the circle of tributes as a woman, Atala, tells us how training will work. We will travel from station to station, learning as much as we can. We can fight with the instructors for practice, but no combat with the other tributes will be tolerated.

Everyone seems to be looking out of the corner of their eyes, taking in the other tributes. This is the first time we've all been together in one place, and we can finally get a good look at each other. Size-wise, I think I'm in the middle. Some of the male tributes, like the careers from 1 and 2, are taller and look better fed than I do. But some of the others are scrawny and short. Now I think I'll stand at least some chance.

Atala finishes her instructions, and the Careers immediately go towards the swords, knives, anything dangerous looking. It's obvious this isn't the first time they've held a weapon. Katniss is watching them too, but makes no moves towards any station.

"Where would you like to start?" I ask, sensing her hesitation.

"Suppose we tie some knots," she says unenthusiastically.

"Right you are."

We go to one of the empty stations, and the trainer lights up a little when he sees us. We learn a few traps here, but Katniss knows the ones he starts out teaching us. After we learn a couple knots, I suggest we go to the camouflage station. If she's going to be hiding in trees the entire time, this could be helpful to her.

The trainer shows us different clays and berries and how to mix them to create different colors. I'm truly intrigued with this station, unlike the last one that felt a little dull. Katniss follows the instructor's tips, and starts on a small portion of her hand while I cover most of my arm in color. With the colors we've been given, I try to re-create the forest floor. It's a lot like icing the cakes at home, when I would wake up early to make the delicacies that so few people could afford back in District 12. At the same time the trainer congratulates me, I look up and see Katniss staring at me with an odd look in her eyes. I can't quite put a name on it, but there's something bitter about it.

"I do the cakes," I admit.

"The cakes?" Katniss asks. "What cakes?"

"At home. The iced ones, for the bakery."

"It's lovely. If only you could frost someone to death."

Yep, she is definitely feeling bitter about this. Maybe even jealous? But she doesn't need camouflage to survive; this could very well help me since I'm no good with weapons.

"Don't be so superior. You can never tell what you'll find in the arena," I say. Maybe she just needs to be lifted up a little. "Say it's actually a giant cake-"

"Say we move on."

I sigh and we rub the color off of ourselves.

The next three days we repeat this, except we go to different stations. Katniss never second guessed herself on the edible plants, I was able to take down the trainer easily in a hand-to-hand combat station, and we both did fairly well with knives.

All the tributes eat lunch together like we do in school, and Katniss and I try to follow Haymitch's orders by being friends. It's hard to find something simple to talk about on the first day, so I empty the bread basket and talk about how they were careful to include bread from each district. Four's is tinted green with seaweed. Ten's is hearty and filling. Five's is covered in cheese, which is something we never made back home. Cheesy bread. I need to make sure that gets back home somehow.

"And there you have it," I say after I point out each district's bread.

"You sure know a lot," Katniss says.

"Only about bread. Okay, now laugh as if I've said something funny."

We both laugh, but Katniss' doesn't seem very convincing.

"All right, I'll keep smiling if you talk."

She asks if she ever told me about when she got chased by a bear, and I say no. she tells the story, which doesn't seem like a lie, and is just as interesting and funny as I thought it would be. I find myself getting absorbed into her story as well as her facial expressions, and for a while, I forget that I'm in a room with over twenty people that want to kill me.

By the second day, I finally speak up about the little girl that's been following us. "I think we have a shadow." I glance over to the girl from 11, the twelve year old. Rue, I think. Tiny. And just _twelve_. The Capitol is just as cruel as ever. "I think her name's Rue."

Katniss glances over, too, and her face becomes hard. When she speaks again, I realize not much has changed since she slammed the door.

"What can we do about it?" she asks harshly.

"Nothing to do. Just making conversation."

We barely talk until training is over for the day and we get back to our floor. I can't even escape the day's events here because Effie and Haymitch insist that we tell them what happened. We finally get away from their interrogation, and I try to make Katniss laugh.

"Someone ought to get Haymitch a drink," I say once we are far enough away from them.

I'm rewarded with something between a snort and a laugh that brings a smile to my lips too. But her smile fades quickly.

"Don't. Don't let us pretend when there's no one around," she says.

_I'm not pretending_, I think.

"All right, Katniss," I breathe, defeated.

We have our private sessions on the third day. I watch as the careers go in with their head high, expecting high scores. I wonder what it's like to be them – so confident that you won't die. That you only have a life of wealth and fame to look forward to. But what can it take to get into their group, anyways? A high score? Surely not a friendly smile.

My name is called once only Katniss and I are left, and I stand up and she looks up to face me.

"Remember what Haymitch said about being sure to throw weights," she says.

"Thanks, I will you…" What do I say to her? "Shoot straight."

She's trying to give advice, so that must mean that she wants me to do well. Obviously there was no sarcasm in her voice. No intention to hurt me. Maybe she's over whatever was bothering her. Is it even possible that she could be starting to think of me that way?

Again, I push the thought out of my head. I can't let myself get attached.

It's weird being in the gymnasium by myself; it seems twenty times bigger. And are people singing? I look over to the Gamemakers, and notice that most of them are singing about booze. I make sure to walk a little heavier and most of them stop singing, but only a few seem to be paying attention. I glance at them again as I make my way to the weights and start with the lighter ones. I throw the 25-pound ball easily, and then move up to 50. Then 75. The Gamemakers seem somewhat impressed, at least the few that are actually paying attention. It frustrates me that they're too interested in getting drunk than paying attention to me. So what if I'm from District Twelve! My life depends on this score just as much as the District 1 tributes. Can they really be so inconsiderate?

Of course they can. They create way to make children's deaths as torturous as possible.

I take my rage out on the 100 pound weight and surprise myself by throwing it further than the 75 pound weight. I'm getting ready to pick up the 125 when a Gamemaker laughs loudly, but not at me. He's drunk, laughing at something one of the other maggots told him. I end up dropping the thing, and I breathe a sigh of relief when it misses by a couple inches. That would not have ended well.

I pick up the weight again and with rage running through me, I'm able to throw it just as far as the previous one. A Gamemaker claps excitedly and then points like he's six. Idiot.

_Glad I could entertain you,_ I think bitterly.

"You may leave, Peeta Mellark," the same Gamemaker says through chuckles.

I leave the room, knowing Katniss will have to face the same, drunk idiots I did.

* * *

><p><strong>Thanks for the reviews Reese1603 (The chapters get longer as the story goes on), lambdse (i've got that covered:)), CrimsonQueen24 (I LOVE Peeta too!), and khadija (I plan on going to the end of the book).<strong>

**Two updates in two days? I like it. I like it a lot:) **


	8. Scores

After taking a shower and waiting in my room for a while, I'm called to dinner. Everyone except Katniss and I talk, only hitting on light subjects. But eventually, I look over to her, asking a silent question. I'm curious as to why she walked in with red-rimmed eyes. She gives her head a small shake as they bring out the main course.

"Okay, enough small talk. Just how bad were you today?" Haymitch asks.

I know the question was directed at both of us, but I feel like it was almost an insult to me.

"I don't know that it mattered. By the time I showed up, no one even bothered to look at me. They were singing some kind of drinking song, I think. I threw around some heavy objects until they told me I could go."

"And you, sweetheart?" Haymitch asks her.

Haymitch calling her "sweetheart" must have rubbed her the wrong way, because the scowl on her face hardens.

"I shot an arrow at the Gamemakers."

Is she trying to commit suicide? It can't take long before the Capitol acts on this. Surely they are sending people to arrest her right now, prepared to turn her into an Avox. And if that doesn't happen, she better be prepared for the one she'll get. Can they even give zeros? Whether she gets arrested or not, she will be committing suicide. A low score will mean no sponsors, which means certain death in the arena.

"You what?" Effie screeches after she swallows her food, sounding as horrified as I am.

"I shot an arrow at them. Not exactly at them. In their general direction. It's like Peeta said, I was shooting and they were ignoring me and I just… I lost my head, so I shot an apple out of their stupid pig's mouth!"

"And what did they say?" Cinna asks in his forever-calm voice.

"Nothing. Or I don't know. I walked out after that," she says.

"What about being dismissed?" Effie asks, her voice only toned down one level.

"I dismissed myself."

She's definitely getting a one.

"Well, that's that," Haymitch says like there's nothing we can do about it. And there isn't. It is what it is.

"Do you think they'll arrest me?" Katniss asks.

Horror runs through me. They can't turn Katniss into an Avox. They can't.

"Doubt it. Be a pain to replace you at this stage," Haymitch says.

"What about my family? Will they punish them?" she asks.

Haymitch reassures her – and me – by telling her they won't because they would have to reveal the top-secret events of her training session. But he only makes things worse by adding, "More likely they'll make your life hell in the arena."

"Well they've already promised to do that to us, anyways," I say bitterly.

"Very true," Haymitch agrees. Then he chuckles. "What were their faces like?"

I don't bother to hold back a smile as I imagine on of the idiots' faces plastered with shock. Even Katniss smiles.

"Shocked. Terrified. Uh, ridiculous, some of them. One man tripped backward into a punch bowl," she says.

Haymitch guffaws and suddenly everyone is laughing, and even Effie has a small smile on her face. "Well, it serves them right. It's their job to pay attention to you. And just because you come from District Twelve is no excuse to ignore you," Effie says, but her face shows that she means to take that back. "I'm sorry. But that's what I think."

"I'll get a very bad score," Katniss says glumly, bringing us all back to reality.

"Scores only matter if they're very good. No one pays attention to the bad or mediocre ones," Portia says. "For all they know, you could be hiding your talents to get a low score on purpose. People use that strategy."

"I hope that's how people interpret the four I'll probably get," she says. "If that. Really. Is anything less impressive than watching someone pick up a heavy ball and throw it a couple of yards? One almost landed on my foot."

Katniss grins at me, and I'm happy my comment was enough to cheer her up for at least a little bit.

After dinner, we go to a room so we can watch the scores. Without a surprise, the careers get eights or tens. Most of the other tributes get around five. Our district comes up last, and I'm on the edge of my seat because I know they will show my score next. First my picture. Then the number eight.

Eight? Eight! That's as high as the careers! But how did I get an _eight_? Whatever the Gamemakers saw in me, it should be enough to at least make the careers pay a little attention to me. I'll be able to save Katniss. I can keep the careers distracted while she runs and hopefully picks off the remaining tributes with arrows. If I can steer them away, then maybe she'll only be left with one or two tributes to fight.

I'm broken out of my thoughts by cheering, and I look to the TV and find out why. Katniss got an _eleven_.

But the only thing I can register is how she's just been made into the biggest target. She's a threat to the careers, and now they'll be spending their entire time hunting her. But she'll have sponsors, that's for sure. Hundreds of them.

"There must be some mistake. How… how could that happen?" she asks Haymitch.

"Guess they liked your temper. They've got a show to put on. They need some players with some heat," he answers.

Portia comes over to me and wraps me in a hug. "Whatever you did, they must have liked it."

"You think I'll get sponsors?" I ask.

"Of course! And wait 'till you see your outfit for the interview – people will be tripping over themselves to get the chance!"

I smile at her enthusiasm then turn to Katniss and we awkwardly congratulate each other. We both got high scores, but that just brings me back to that we'll both be in the same arena. Both fighting for our lives. And we both have been turned into contenders.

I bid everyone else good-night before I walk to my quarters. Surprisingly, I fall asleep quickly.

I'm awake before the sun is up, and I still don't feel rested enough. My dreams were filled with my family's tears over my death. But by taking my time to get ready, Im able to spend some time thinking of a plan.

My score is as high as two of the other careers, so that should help me get into their group. I'm able to throw a knife fairly well, and I can wrestle. But that's still not enough. I need something to make me stand out. I might be able to win the favor of the Capitol citizens, but how? I'm a baker, not some rich kid form District 1 who has had all the training he can get. The only thing special about me is that I have a crush on another tribute.

That's it!

But could it hurt Katniss in the Games? It can't, unless she announces she feels the same way – which will never happen. At least not in front of all of Panem.

I don't think, I just run out into the hall and strait to the dining room. I need to talk to Haymitch.

"Haymitch!" I say a little too eagerly.

He takes his eyes off his cup of juice and looks to me.

"Someone's an early riser," he says.

"I want to be coached separately," I say, cutting straight to it.

He and Effie exchange a glance, but he just shakes his head and turns back to me as I take my seat.

"That might not be-" he starts.

"I want to be with the careers in the arena," I say.

Haymitch looks almost as stunned as Effie, who chokes a little on her coffee.

"You're not up to that. These kids have been training their whole life for this," Haymitch says, back to his mentor-mode that I've only seen a couple times so far. "You've done nothing but bake."

It's true, but it still rubs me the wrong way.

"I got a score just as high as them," I snap back, feeling a little defensive.

"Scores won't mean a thing once you're face-to-face with one of them," Haymitch says with a chuckle.

"But you said it yourself; don't underestimate strength in the arena," I argue.

"And you shouldn't. But you can't rely on strength alone in there," he says.

"I've been wrestling pretty much my whole life, you know," I snap.

"And those kids have been practicing with knives pretty much their whole lives," he mimics.

This isn't what I came for. I'm not supposed to be arguing with him – there's plenty of time for that later on.

I lean in close and my voice is quiet when I speak. "Being with the careers could save Katniss. At least for a little while," I say. "So will you please help?"

Haymitch calms down and a strange look crosses his face. Content, maybe?

Katniss walks in, and we know our conversation has to end now.

"Then we'll help," Haymitch whispers.

"And you'll be coached separately," Effie whispers.

"Thank you," I say in the same hushed voice.

We don't say another word during the rest of breakfast. How will Katniss take the news that I want to be coached separately? There's already been tension between us since she slammed that door the other night, and this surely won't help with that. The only sound that is heard is the clink of silverware against plates until Katniss speaks up.

"So, what's going on? You're coaching us on interviews today, right?" she asks.

"That's right," Haymitch confirms.

"You don't have to wait until I'm done. I can listen and eat at the same time," she says.

"Well, there's been a change of plans. About our current approach," Haymitch tells her.

"What's that?" she asks.

"Peeta has asked to be coached separately."

And the look in her eyes crushes me, making me instantly regret doing this.

* * *

><p><strong>Next chapter is the interview! I like how it's turned out so far, but I have a HUGE term paper that I have to do. School really needs to calm down on all these projects.<strong>

**Anyways, hope you liked it! **


	9. Epiphany

"Good," Katniss says, her face emotionless but her eyes full of pain. "So what's the schedule?"

Haymitch tells her she has four hours with Effie then four hours with him, meaning I'll do the opposite. She follows Effie to her room and I follow Haymitch to mine.

"So, you want to be with the careers?" he asks once the door is closed.

"To help Katniss," I answer.

He gives me a suspicious look, and I know he wants to know more. Why I want to save her. I put my plan into action, almost hating that I have to reveal this.

"I like her," I say quietly, and I feel my face get a little warm.

He laughs loudly and then calms down, but he's still chuckling when he slaps my back. "I know you do."

"You know?" I ask in shock.

How? Has it been that obvious? The heat in my cheeks intensifies.

"Of course, kid," he says, and then his face becomes serious again. "And you want to save her."

"Yeah. I could keep the careers away from her at least for a little while," I answer.

"What I'm asking is if you're willing to die for her," he says, an edge in his voice I've never heard before.

Am I willing to die for her? Am I willing to get strangled to death? Stabbed? Pushed off a cliff? My family. They would grieve, but they wouldn't die and they would eventually get over it. But Katniss' family wouldn't last long without her. She needs to get back to them. Even if it means my death. For some reason, I'm suddenly sure that I'm willing to go through anything to get her back to Twelve.

"Yes," I say, my voice stronger than before.

"Then that's more than some crush you've got."

That's definitely true. The more time I spend with her, I'm only left craving more. I just want to spend time with her, learn more about her. Be able to talk where we aren't preparing to be sent into a bloodbath. I feel like an entire lifetime wouldn't be enough with her. If she just knew how much I loved her-

I love her.

I've been trying to avoid my feelings so much that I haven't even noticed how hard I've fallen for her. I realize now that I must have loved her a while. It just took Haymitch to make me realize it was love. And now there's no turning back.

"I love her," I whisper, staring blankly at a design in the carpet.

"Are you willing to announce it during the interview?" he asks.

"I was. But announcing that I _love_ her... that's a little different."

"I think it could help. It would make you look weak to the careers, but it will help with the sponsors. I guess you're planning on coming off as likeable?"

"Yeah."

He looks away for a moment, thinking.

"That'll make you look weak to the careers too, but you have that high score. You'll have to prove yourself somehow," he says, almost mumbling.

"Plenty of tributes have acted different in their interviews. Maybe the careers will think it's fake," I suggest.

"But it's not."

Was that meant to be an insult?

"How do you know I haven't been acting this entire time?" I ask, suddenly angry with him.

"Because I know. And you know it, too. I know you'll try to avoid killing-" I glare at him because he's really aggravating me. "But I also know you'll kill if you have to."

I nod, and then we spend the rest of the four hours talking about ways I can lead up to telling all of Panem my love for Katniss and how I'll try to make them laugh.

"It should work," Haymitch says as we walk to the dining room where we'll meet Effie and Katniss.

I smile to myself at the thought of Katniss making it back home. I don't even bother to try and holdback my emotions anymore, and I'm going to make the best of my last days. Katniss will make it out alive, and that's enough to life my spirits.

We switch off, Effie and I going to a room away from the dining hall and Katniss and Haymitch going to the sitting room.

I expected my coaching with Effie to be easy, maybe even a little enjoyable. But, oh, was I wrong. Effie teaches me how to sit properly, hold my head up, even where to place my hands. She goes over walking, too. Everything I need to know.

"You've already mastered charm, unlike your counterpart," Effie mumbles the last part, referring to Katniss.

I almost want to laugh as I picture Katniss being taught etiquette by the Etiquette Queen herself.

We finish the four grueling hours and then meet the others for dinner, when I realize either Effie or Haymitch has ticked off Katniss. Or maybe both. But I'm guessing it was mostly Haymitch; she wasn't in too bad of a mood when we switched.

We go back to our chambers, except tonight it takes me a while to fall asleep. I don't particularly want to because I know I will have to face the nightmares. Tomorrow is the interview and I need my sleep, but I'm too stressed out about it. Surely I won't do too bad. I like talking to people. This shouldn't be any different.

After convincing myself that I have nothing to worry about and there's the possibility it could even be fun, I fall asleep. Just like I expected, I am stuck in nightmares. Except this time they aren't of me dying – they're of Katniss dying right in front of me.

I mentally let out a sigh of relief when I wake up to shuffling in my room and light blinding me when I open my eyes. My prep team is here, and they all but pull me out of bed. They get started right away, polishing my skin with the gritty soap again and washing my hair. I laugh inwardly when they continue to talk about their Capitol "crises" - hair malfunctions and the store not having their size of a specific shirt in stock. I have to eat breakfast and lunch while they chatter and work on me, because they refuse to take a break. Even though they're as despicable as it gets, I know they have good intentions. It's hard to hate them.

Portia is there the whole time, and I catch her trying to subdue the prep team's complaints. She knows their ridiculous problems annoy me. Once Emelia has finished spraying my hair with foul-smelling mist from a can, Portia holds up a bag that I assume has my outfit in it.

"Turn around," she orders in her forever-gentle voice.

I do as I'm told, and she slips the suit over me. Finally, they tell me I'm allowed to look in the mirror.

I still look like myself, except any imperfections are gone. The slight burns on my hands from all those years of baking are covered in a thin paint that matches my skin tone exactly. My hair still holds its natural waves, except they're more defined. But the suit Portia designed – it's amazing. Little flame accents here and there stand out against the black. I guess we're sticking with the "tributes on fire" thing.

"Do you like it?" she asks as she stands next to me. The prep team follows immediately and we all look at me in the mirror.

"Portia, it's amazing," I tell her truthfully.

"Nobody will be able to take their eyes off you," she says and the rest of the prep team squeals in excitement. "Are you ready for the interview?"

"I'm a little nervous, but I think I'll be alright," I say.

"You'll do wonderfully," she reassures.

I take a deep breath in, but it's shaky. Maybe I will need some support during the interview.

I order rolls from the menu and we all nibble on those for a while. Then it's time to go and they tweak my hair a little before we leave. We wait by the elevators for Haymitch and Effie. But when I see Katniss, I can't help but stare at her.

She looks a little shaken, but it wouldn't be able to distract anyone from the dress she's wearing. It fits her perfectly, with red and orange flames made of a thousand gems. They sparkle and reflect the light in her eyes, giving her a twinkling effect. She's stunning.

We make our way to the stage in front of the Training Center, and I'm immediately taken aback by how many people there are. Portia stops me in my tracks and looks me in the eye.

"I'll be sitting with the rest of the stylists in the front row. You'll have a clear view of us whenever you need a familiar face," she tells me.

I nod, feeling a little better knowing that I'll have someone to focus on other than the thousands of people.

Katniss and I are about to follow the rest of the tributes on stage when Haymitch comes behind the two of us and growls, "You're still a happy pair, so act like it."

I won't be acting on my part. For some reason, I get the feeling it won't be too hard for Katniss to act like we are. But that could be my crazy love-mind working, thinking that what I want is true. We've barely even talked since the training sessions.

All the tributes go through their interviews, some doing incredibly well and others doing poorly. Once it's Katniss' turn, she gets up and puts a fairly convincing smile on her face.

She goes through her interview not so confident at first, and I can tell that she's nervous by the way she talks. She's not acting like herself, at all. And she giggles? I didn't think it was possible for her to giggle. But she reclaims herself when the interview ends with the crowd going silent as she talks about Prim. Even I feel glued to my seat when she tells Caesar she swore to Prim that she would make it back home for her.

And then it's me. My heart thumps the same way it does at the reaping every year and during the chariot ride. I find Portia, and her and Cinna are smiling brightly. If they're confident in me, then I should be, too. I put on my best smile, and think of how I'll be able to make my family happy by giving a good interview. My smile turns into a real smile, and I'm almost excited to do the interview. I'll try to have fun with it.

I shake Caesar's hand and sit in the chair across from him.

"Hello, Caesar," I greet.

"Hello, Peeta. So, how have these past couple days been?" he asks.

"They've been a little rough. Being away from my family and all. But I'm mostly worried about how they're doing without me," I answer.

The crowd awes, and I realize they pity me. Not what I was going for.

"Your family owns a bakery, if I'm correct," Caesar continues.

"Yes, we own the bakery back in Twelve. I thought that I had eaten enough bread to last me the rest of my life, until I came here. And now I can't get enough!"

The crowd laughs, and this only makes me smile more. This isn't so hard. I glance back to Portia, who has an approving smile on her face.

We continue talking about the bakery, and I make the daring move of comparing the tributes to the breads from their districts. I'm careful not to offend any of them – that could be the end of me. We talk about my views on the Capitol, which of course are mostly lies, and I make jokes along the way. The crowd will laugh at almost anything. I ask if I still smell like roses after we talk about the showers, and when Caesar and I make a joke out of smelling each other, the crowd is erupting with laughter. But of course it could only last for so long.

Once we calm down from laughing, he asks me if I have a girlfriend back home. Perfect lead-in, and I know Haymitch is anxious to see how our plan turns out.

I shake my head as an answer to Caesar, purposefully making it unconvincing.

"Handsome lad like you. There must be some special girl. Come on, what's her name?" Caesar urges.

"Well, there is this one girl. I've had a crush on her ever since I can remember. But I'm pretty sure she didn't know I was alive until the reaping."

Sounds of sympathy come from the crowd. Unrequited love. I'm on a subject everyone can understand.

"She have another fellow?" Caesar asks.

There's Gale. If you can even count him.

"I don't know, but a lot of boys like her," I say.

"So here's what you do. You win, you go home. She can't turn you down then, eh?" Caesar suggests.

Now or never. I can still turn back. I can agree and name some random person, maybe even no one at all, saying I want it to be a surprise.

_This should work_, I hear Haymitch's voice inside my head.

"I don't think it's going to work out. Winning…" I can hear the blood rush in my ears and i fear that my heart is loud enough to be heard through the microphone. "Won't help in my case."

"Why ever not?" Caesar asks, truly intrigued.

I can feel the heat rush to my face. "Because…" I could say that my lover is dead. That's why. "Because…" Is there even a good way this could end? Maybe I could – oh, just spit it out! "She came here with me."

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><p><strong>I loved writing this chapter:) And yay! Peeta finally realizes he loves Katniss. And thanks to my wonderful reviewers:<strong>

**Reese1603 **

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	10. Shattered Urns

Gasps of surprise come from the crowd; even pained wails after people realize who my love is as I try to hide my face by looking at my shoes. My voice was barely audible, but with the loud speakers, it could be heard easily. And Katniss?

Her face is on every screen. Her shocked face. With cheeks as red as they get, she closes her lips together tightly and looks at the floor. I knew I shouldn't have said that.

"Oh, that is a piece of bad luck," Caesar says.

"It's not good," I say, finally taking my face off the screens showing Katniss.

"Well, I don't think any of us can blame you. It'd be hard not to fall for that young lady. She didn't know?"

Of course she didn't know! And now, she probably thinks anything I've had to do with her has all been a plot to kill her, when it's exactly the opposite. Even though my emotions are going crazy inside my head, I keep that same show face on.

"Not until now," I say after I shake my head.

"Wouldn't you love to pull her back out here and get a response?" Caesar asks the crowd, which screams in agreement so loudly that the buzzer can hardly be heard. "Sadly, rules are rules, and Katniss Everdeen's time has been spent. Well, best of luck to you, Peeta Mellark, and I think I speak for all of Panem when I say our hearts go with yours."

I begin to think that I've done it. I've won over the Capitol Citizens. Their roar is deafening, and I wait for them to calm down before I choke on my own words. "Thank you."

I go back to my seat while the anthem blares even above the roar of the crowd, and I notice every screen is focused on Katniss and I. We _have_ done it – we've made Hunger Games history.

I'm still in a daze as we make our way back to the Training Center and ride up the elevators. Katniss goes to a different one than me, leaving me alone with a few others. No one speaks on the way up, and the last person to gets off on the eighth floor. Finally alone. I slump back against the glass walls of the elevator. In just a few seconds, I'll be able to talk to Katniss. She might even be happy. Besides, this should help her _and_ me in the arena with the sponsors. The elevator dings and I take a deep breath in, expecting to explain to Katniss that this has helped her.

I don't have time to though, because as soon as I step out of the elevator, I'm shoved. I fall backwards into an urn. It crashes under me, sending shards all over the floor and into my hand. I look up and see my attacker is Katniss, who's furious. Is she really going to be like this now?

"What was that for?" I ask, my own anger starting to well up inside me.

"You had no right! No right to go saying those things about me!" she shouts.

The elevators open and the rest of the adults come in.

"What's going on?" Effie asks with an edge of hysteria in it. "Did you fall?"

"Katniss shoved me," I say as I glare at her.

Effie and Cinna help me up while Haymitch turns his attention to Katniss. "Shoved him?"

"This was your idea, wasn't it? Turning me into some kind of fool in front of the entire country?" she accuses him.

"It was my idea," I say as I begin pulling pottery out of my hand. And I can't let Haymitch take the blame for something I came up with. "Haymitch just helped me with it."

"Yes, Haymitch is very helpful. To you!" she exclaims.

"You _are_ a fool. Do you think he hurt you? That boy just gave you something you could never achieve on your own," Haymitch says.

"He made me look weak!" she yells.

Haymitch tells her how I made her look desirable and how the citizens think of us as the star-crossed lovers from District 12. She denies it, and Haymitch pins her against the wall by her shoulders.

I instinctively take a step forward, wanting to intervene. But it's just Haymitch. He won't hurt her; he just wants to get his point across. I calm down and focus back on my hands. If I feel protective of her now, how will I be in the arena?

I continue to try and pull the rest of the shards out of my hand, but with no luck. There are still tiny pieces stuck so I just clench my hands in fists to get the bleeding to stop.

Cinna hands me a cloth from his suit pocket and then wraps an arm around Katniss. "He's right, Katniss."

"I should have been told so I didn't look so stupid," she says.

"No, your reaction was perfect," Portia reassures her. "If you'd known, it wouldn't have read as real."

"She's just worried about her boyfriend," I say bitterly as I pull a particularly painful shard out of my hand. Gale will probably guess it's a lie. For the people that now Katniss or me well, they will all probably think it was a lie. Merchant kids don't fall for Seam kids – that's how it's supposed to work.

"I don't have a boyfriend," she says, but her red cheeks say otherwise.

"Whatever. But I bet he's smart enough to know a bluff when he sees it. Besides, _you _didn't say you loved _me_. So what does it matter?"

She turns to address everyone else like I'm not even here, just adding to my anger. "After he said he loved me, did you think I could be in love with him too?"

"I did," Portia says. "The way you avoided looking at the cameras, the blush."

"You're golden, sweetheart. You're going to have sponsors lined up around the block," Haymitch tells her.

Finally, she realizes that I helped her and she acknowledges that I'm here. "I'm sorry I shoved you."

"Doesn't matter," I say with a shrug. I'm not supposed to make it out of these Games anyways. Despite my newest reminder that I'll be dead soon, I try to lighten the mood for everyone else. "Although it's technically illegal."

"Are your hands okay?" she asks.

"They'll be alright," I say.

The blood slows down and Effie says that she doesn't think I'll need bandages. We eat dinner, but I only make it to the beginning of the main course when I look down at the bloody roll I'm holding. Everyone stares at me as I set it down on my plate and begin to wipe my hand on my napkin, but it's no use.

"Let's go patch that up," Portia says as she gets up from her seat.

I nod, and then wrap the napkin around the hand that is bleeding the worst. I follow her to a washroom where she turns on the water and starts looking through the cabinets.

"This won't hurt me in the arena tomorrow, will it?" I ask.

She takes my hand from under the water and quickly examines it. "No. You got all of the pieces out."

She spreads a cream on my palms which stings at first, then soothes away almost all the pain I felt just a second ago.

"And I'm sure you'll have plenty of sponsors to help you out in there," she continues. "Thanks to your interview tonight. You know, you're a very convincing liar."

I look at her, confused. I didn't lie about anything except on some of my thoughts of the Capitol.

"When you proclaimed your love for Katniss?" she continues, noticing my confusion.

Portia deserves to be in on the truth, too.

"Portia, that wasn't a lie," I say, and she stops wrapping my hand to look up at me.

"You really love her?" she asks like she didn't believe it the first time.

"Yes. Why would I lie?" I ask.

"To get sponsors!" she exclaims.

"I… I don't think I'll need sponsors anymore." My voice is barely above a whisper; I can't even hold her gaze so I have to look down to my palm.

"Everyone needs sponsors, Peeta," she says in an almost cooing voice. "Why wouldn't you need sponsors?"

I look back up to her, and I can feel the lump in my throat start to form. But I can't cry in front of Portia – it would only make her cry, too. She seems to get it on her own when her face changes from showing confusion to grief and her mouth drops open a bit.

"Peeta…"

"I never stood a chance in these Games, anyways. Besides, Katniss' family needs her more. Mine will get over my death eventually," I say, knowing it's true.

She opens her mouth to say something else, but then stops. She goes to sits on the little velvet-covered bench on the opposite wall, deep in thought. I mess with the fresh cotton bandages wrapped around my hands for a little before she speaks again.

"Just promise me that if your plan doesn't go exactly as you want, you'll at least try," she asks.

"Of course," I answer. But my plan will work. I don't have another choice. Katniss _will_ make it back to Twelve.

"Thank you," she says, and a small smile is back on her face.

She puts away the rest of the medical supplies and she smiles a sad smile. "I was thinking you would stand a pretty good chance, especially after tonight," she says as we head out into the hallway.

"Then that should make getting with the Careers easier," I say.

She nods, but we don't say anything else as we walk back to the dining room. We eat the rest of dinner, then watch the interview replays. Katniss isn't herself on stage; she almost seems like a shallow Capitol citizen. Until she talks about Prim. And the shock on people's faces when I declare my love for Katniss is exactly how I imagined them.

It's time to go back to our quarters, and I know this is the last time I will ever see Haymitch or Effie. Some of the last people I will see that I can still consider friends. They may not be my actual friends, but they aren't trying to kill me. And in this week and the next ones to follow, that's as close as I'm going to get.

Effie takes Katniss and I by the hand as tears well up in her eyes, and she wishes us good luck. But being Effie, she adds, "I wouldn't be surprised if I finally get promoted to a decent district next year!"

I almost laugh, but it's too sad to see our slightly annoying escort leave. Only three left: Haymitch, Cinna, and Portia. The last "friends" I will see before.

Haymitch crosses his arms, refusing to be as emotional as Effie.

"Any final words of advice?" I ask him.

"When the gong sounds, get the hell out of there. Neither of you are up to the blood bath at the Cornucopia," he says. I'm not sure if this is meant solely for Katniss, or if it's for me, too. "Just clear out, put as much distance as you can between yourself and the others, and find a source of water. Got that?"

"And after that?" Katniss asks.

"Stay alive," Haymitch says. I can't help but smile, knowing he's not drunk and that he means it this time. Katniss and I nod.

Katniss walks to her room with Haymitch not far behind as he walks to his, leaving Portia and me.

"At least I'll be remembered as the star-crossed lover and the best dressed male tribute," I say, sensing that the mood between us hasn't changed much since she bandaged my hands earlier.

"We definitely put District Twelve on the map, didn't we?"

"No one will ever forget us; or Cinna and Katniss."

She smiles, and I know I've done my job of trying to cheer her up.

"See you in the morning?" I say, but it turns out like a question. I pray that I wont have to say good-bye to Portia tonight, too.

"I'll be there bright and early," she confirms.

With one last smile, I walk back to my quarters to try and get some sleep. Which never happens. I lie in bed, but I can't stop thinking of tomorrow. The Games. The arena. The blood. Just what will I have to face? What will my family have to face? My body could be mangled beyond repair. Who knows how cruel the Gamemakers will be this year.

I try to clear my mind by looking out the window and watching the citizens party in the streets. Their favorite entertainment starts tomorrow, and I have a feeling Katniss and I will be the stars at least in the beginning.

Even staring out the window brings my thoughts back to the Games. Cinna said I could go to the roof almost any time I wanted. Maybe the wind up there will help me calm down a bit.

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><p><strong>This stops in the middle of chapter 10 in the book. it was getting a bit lengthy so i split this one into 2 sections. I just love Portia. But have you SEEN the actress that will play her in the movie? NOTHING like i pictured. nothing. here's a pic: images5. fanpop . comimage/photos/29200000/Portia-the-hunger-games-movie-29211877-500-535 . png **

**Just remove some of the spaces in the URL.**

**Reviews are very much appreciated:)**

**.**


	11. Launched

**Since Savindie was trying so hard to be patient, I thought i would end your misery:) Enjoy your early update!**

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><p>I'm up here for a while before a voice catches me by surprise. "You should be getting some sleep."<p>

I start to turn my head to scold Katniss for not sleeping either, but I don't want to fight. Not on the last night we can talk without worrying about someone ambushing us with a knife. "I didn't want to miss the party. It's for us, after all."

"Are they in costumes?" she asks as she leans over the rail next to me.

"Who could tell?" I say. "With all the crazy clothes they wear. Couldn't sleep either?"

"Couldn't turn my mind off," she says.

"Thinking of your family?" I ask.

"No. All I can do is wonder about tomorrow. Which is pointless, of course," she says. She looks down at my bandaged hands and I know she still feels guilty. "I really am sorry about your hands."

"It doesn't matter, Katniss," I tell her. "I've never been a contender in these Games, anyways."

"That's no way to be thinking."

"Why not? It's true. My best hope is not to disgrace myself and…" how do I put it? I just want everyone to remember me as the baker's boy who makes people laugh. Not as a killer.

"And what?" she presses.

"I don't know how to say it exactly. Only… I want to die as myself. Does that make any sense?" She shakes her head. "I don't want them to change me in there. Turn me into some kind of monster I'm not.

"Do you mean you won't kill anyone?"

"No, when the time comes, I'm sure I'll kill just like everybody else. I can't go down without a fight. Only I keep wishing I could show the Capitol they don't own me. That I'm more than just a piece in their games."

"But you're not. None of us are. That's how the Games work."

Fine. If she wants to think that way, then let her. But she's more focused on getting g out alive, so that's all that matters to me. I would much rather her be changed than dead, but I need her to know that the Capitol can't _always_ change a person.

"Okay, but within the framework, there's still you, there's still me," I explain. "Don't you see?"

"A little. Only… no offense, but who cares, Peeta?"

"I do. I mean, what else am I allowed to care about at this point?" I ask, my anger suddenly getting the best of me. I can't care about anything but Katniss at this point. That's the only way she's getting out alive. Thinking about my family, or Haymitch or Portia or Cinna or even Effie will just make me weaker.

"Care about what Haymitch said. About staying alive," she tells me.

Ha. That piece of advice was meant solely for her. He has no intentions of getting me out alive unless Katniss is already dead. Which won't happen. As much as I want to scream at her and tell her my plan, I can't. If she just _knew_ then she would understand where I was coming from. But for all I know, she thinks that my love for her is fake. Only for the cameras.

I smile at her, knowing that Haymitch's advice was meant only for her. "Okay. Thanks for the tip, sweetheart."

"Look, if you want to spend the last hours of your life planning some noble death in the arena, that's your choice. I want to spend mine back in District Twelve."

_And I'll make sure you do._

"Wouldn't surprise me if you do," I say. I'm still sour about her telling me to survive when I know I'm just going to perish in that arena. Never getting to see my family or friends ever again. "Give my mother my best when you make it back, will you?"

"Count on it."

Then she turns to leave, and I realize I've done exactly what I wanted to avoid: fight on the last night we can be considered friends.

I wait until I hear the door to the roof close before I leave. When I make it back to my room, I'm able to fall asleep quickly and succumb to the nightmares.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

I wake up feeling a cool wind on my face, and I guess someone must have turned the fan on. But when I open my eyes, I see that I'm not where I fell asleep. I'm on a layer of moss which is surprisingly soft. And looming just a few feet away from me is the edge of a cliff.

I gasp and push myself away from it. How did I get here? I look up to the night sky when I hear music, and recognize it as the anthem. Once it's done, a light shines into the sky and shows the faces of a few tributes.

_I'm in the Games._

I can't be. I don't remember any of the Cornucopia battles or how I got here. What if it's amnesia? A cruel trick the Gamemakers could have added to make the Games more interesting. But my main problem now is figuring out where everyone is…

I stand up and look over the edge of the cliff, and it must be almost a hundred feet to the river below. It could easily kill someone.

I spin around on my heels when I hear footsteps behind me, and I realize I have nothing to defend myself with. I ball my hands into fists, ready to punch whoever makes it through the thick pushes.

My hand is already back and ready to punch when I see Katniss, breathing heavily, stumble through the bushes.

"Katniss!" I yell as I desperately pull her into my arms.

She wraps her arms around my neck and I hold her tight, never wanting to let her go. But I need to find out what's happened so far.

"What happened? I don't remem-"

I'm cut off when her lips are on mine. My thoughts are jumbled as I try to take in what's happening. She feels the same way! She really does! I can't help but smile and pull away to look at her. She's here. In my arms. Safe. And _kissing me._

She opens her mouth to say something, but then her eyes grow side and she grips my shoulder that her hand is resting on. Her other shoots to her stomach, and I look down.

I want to scream when I see the spear through her, but my throat is closed. Everything in me feels like it has shut down. I hear laughter. Dark, evil laughter from behind her.

I look up for one second and see the vicious-looking District Two boy laughing even harder as Katniss falls to the ground, bringing me with her.

"No… no. no. no. no. No!" I'm yelling through the tears now. She can't die. She can't…

"Peeta," she says and I grip her hand tighter than I did during the chariot ride.

"You aren't dying. You're going to make it back to Twelve. Just wait," I try to comfort her but it's no use.

She keeps saying my name over and over as the boy just continues to laugh. For some reason, Katniss' voice gets louder. Like she's shouting at me, even though she's at death's door.

"Peeta!"

I sit straight up and my hand goes to the side of me where Katniss is, but I only end up hitting a pillow. I'm breathing heavily as I look around at my surroundings. Silk sheets. Fluffy pillows. Bandaged hands. Portia.

"I'm sorry to startle you, but you were starting to worry me. You looked like you were in pain," she says with a concerned look.

Right. I'm at the Training Center. I haven't been in the arena yet. Katniss is still alive.

"It's okay," I say in a shaky voice. When I lift my hand to my forehead, I notice that my arms are shaky too. Everything is. "Just a little jumpy."

"I thought you would be," she says as she hands me a mug. "It's tea. After you drink that, get dressed in something comfy and then we'll go to the roof."

I nod and drink the tea quickly with my still shaky hands. When we get to the roof, a hovercraft appears and a ladder comes down. After my foot is on the first rung, I begin to make my way up. But I only get one step farther until I'm frozen in place. The ladder goes up, pulling me with it. I'm still stuck there when a man comes up with a syringe in his hand.

"It's just a tracker, so we can find you in the arena," he says as he sticks the needle deep into my arm.

I'm released from the ladder and then Portia is brought up. We eat breakfast on the hovercraft, but I'm careful not to eat any of the rich foods. I try to regain a normal breathing pattern by looking out the window, but it only makes me feel worse. Just how far will we go? We're still surrounded by mountains…

After a while, the windows go black and we can't see anything. Portia and I are dropped into a dark hole, and then we head to the catacombs to prepare.

Everything is new. I will be the only person ever to use it, at least until the Capitol citizens vacation here. Portia and I sit in silence until my clothes arrive, which has only built on the suspense and made my nerves worse.

"What do you think about them?" I ask, hoping to get some hint of the arena.

"It probably won't snow. The clothes aren't thick enough. But the jacket's made to reflect body heat, so it will get cold."

I nod.

"Does everything fit right?" she asks.

I wave my arms around, run, jump. Everything's comfy, and all I'm able to do is nod again. But then I remember something.

"My token," I say. "I didn't bring it."

She smiles and pulls the leather bracelet out of her coat pocket and then fastens it around my wrist. It reminds me of my father, of home. The smell of the bakery. My brothers and I wrestling against our mother's orders. It almost brings a smile to my face, but I know I have to save Katniss. I will never see them again. The best I can do is make them proud.

"Make sure they know that I didn't just abandon them," I tell Portia. "My family."

"Of course," she says.

"And Katniss, if I don't get to tell her in the arena."

She has tears welling up in her eyes, and I know she's trying to hold them back. I wrap her in a hug and she gladly accepts the small amount of comfort it offers both of us. We pull back and she straightens my jacket a little.

"You'll find a way to get with those careers. I know it," she tells me a second before a woman tells us it's time to launch.

"I'll do my best," I say.

"Then you'll be able to save Katniss," she says as I head for the plate.

My feet hit the metal, and I know I have only a second before the glass closes over me. "Thank you. For everything," I tell her, the glass cutting off half of my last word.

We don't break eye contact until I'm surrounded by darkness, and I'm only able to see one tear roll down her face. Hopefully it will be the only. Air starts to ruffle my hair and then I'm completely out in the open, feeling vulnerable. The sun is blinding and hot, and I know I'll only have sixty seconds to take everything in.

Then I hear the announcer that must be as old as the Games themselves. Claudius Templesmith.

"Ladies and gentlemen, let the Seventy-fourth Hunger Games begin!"

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><p><strong>Finally! We're almost to the arena. Next chapter for sure! Poor Peeta ): this chapter was pretty sad, but Katniss saying bye to Cinna was equally heartbreaking.<strong>

**Tell me what'ya think!**


	12. With the Careers

I take in everything. A few tributes to my left – none of them Careers – and then the girl from Two is on my right. There is a slope downward to my right also. In front of me are woods, and I'm ecstatic that Katniss will have a better chance in these Games since the woods seem dense. I look behind me quickly and see a like, and I know that's where the Careers will probably set up camp.

Katniss. I need to find her.

_Where are you?_

I glance around the circle of tributes as fast as I can, knowing my sixty seconds is ticking away. I finally see her four or five tributes to my left, her eyes focused on something in front of her. The Cornucopia. Even worse, a bow and a sheath of arrows are sitting right at the mouth of it.

Could she really be that stupid?

She's thinking about going completely against Haymitch's orders! She'll be dead before she can even reach the weapon. I want to scream at her. Run to her plate, take her into my arms and hold her. Anything to stop her from running into the bloodbath that's sure to happen. If she could just see me, I could do something. But she's too focused on that damn bow. She needs to look over here!

Finally! I start shaking my head, but she seems confused. The gong rings, and she hesitates for a moment before running off the plate. But I don't.

I pick up a small knife a few yards away, remembering Katniss' words: _all you need is to come up with a knife, and you'll at least stand a chance._ Then I'm running strait to the Cornucopia, hoping to beat Katniss there. One girl with red hair is already there. If I can get there before her, then I can protect her.

Except I don't get the chance.

Someone shoves me from the side and I fall to the ground, rolling my ankle the wrong way. It's not broken, but I'm sure it will handicap me later on. I roll onto my back, ready to kick him before he can do any damage. But I'm too late; he's on top of me before I can get my feet under him. He gets one good punch on my cheek, but I get one, too. I'm able to wrap my arm around his neck and then flip him over onto his back. He takes this one moment of vulnerability to knee me in the stomach, making me gasp for air. He rolls on top of me as he pulls knife from his belt.

This time, I'm quicker. Before he can even lift his arm, my knife digs into his shoulder. He drops the knife and rolls off of me, clutching his upper arm, while I take off running.

_So all those years of wrestling _have_ paid off._

I run as fast as my ankle will let me, but glance back to check on Katniss. She has an orange backpack and is making her way to the woods where she'll be safe. WIth my fear for her moving towards the back of my mind, I focus on myself.

I quicken my pace towards the Cornucopia just as a searing pain runs through my upper arm. This sudden surge of pain causes me to trip over my ankle and I almost fall to the ground again. This time, I'm sure to turn around and lunge at the boy who stabbed me. I land on top of him as his head slams into the hard-packed earth. I'm about to punch him when I see the long, serrated knife, covered in my own blood, in his hand. I lost mine in the last fight, and I need to get that out of his possession. I reach for it, but he somehow uses this lopsided weight to flip me over onto my back. He lifts it above his head, and I fear the worst.

Well, my time in the arena lasted long.

But I have to save Katniss. She has to make it home. I won't let this end any other way.

I grab the boy's wrist that is attached to the hand holding the knife and push him back with my other hand. My wounded arm screams in protest as this comes down to a fight of strength. He tries to stab me again, but I'm stronger than him. I squeeze his wrist tighter, hoping to cut off circulation as much as possible. Eventually, the tips of his fingers turn a light shade of purple and he drops the knife.

I don't let go. It would be easier for him to take it than me. After all this fighting, I'm just now realizing who this is – the boy from District 1. A Career!

I flip him over and take the knife with me in one swift movement. I'm able to pin his wrists down next to his head, and I know he has no way of escaping. It would be an easy kill. But if I want to be with the Careers, I can't kill one of them.

"Go ahead, Lover Boy," he snarls.

And then I know what to do. The Capitol loves her. She got an eleven in training. She's the ultimate threat to the Careers.

"I can help you find Katniss," I breathe.

I can almost hear all of Panem's shocked cries.

His face changes, but I keep the knife in my hand.

"Yeah right," he says and his face goes back to the way it was.

He begins to struggle again, so I pin his arms down harder and do my best to convince him.

"That interview was a joke. I lied the entire time. I did it just so she would be easier to kill," I growl. "She trusts me."

It hurts me to say these words when I wouldn't have dared say them under any other circumstance, but I hate the Capitol, this boy, everything right now so much that my voice sounds as menacing as any other Career.

He doesn't say anything, but he looks fairly convinced. I let myself off of him, cautiously, and I don't let go of the knife. Without having something else to focus on, the pain comes back to my arm. I want to hold it to stop the bleeding and make some of the pain go away, but that would just make me look weak. The blood starts to run down my arm and then drip off my elbow into the grass as he looks me over.

"Are you sure she trusts you?" he asks through heavy breathing.

"Yes," I say, my breathing just as heavy. "She thinks I'm not even trying."

He gives me one hard look before putting a rough hand on my shoulder and leading me towards three Careers at the Cornucopia, who are teasing the boy from Three.

"Cato!" the District 1 boy calls.

Two's male tribute – the menacing-looking one from my dream – looks up and gets a disgusted look on his face.

"Just kill him," he says, and turns his attention back to the kid from Three.

"He can help us find the girl from District 12," my captor says.

All three of the Careers stare at me. I take this as them asking for an explanation.

"The interview was a lie. It was so I could gain Katniss' trust," I say, and I'm surprised how strong my voice is despite my nerves and the pain in my ankle and arm. I almost sound like a real Career.

"You sure she trusts you?" the blonde girl form One asks.

"Yes."

They all exchange glances.

"Fine. Help us find her. Can you even do anything besides act?" District Two boy asks, who I assume is Cato.

"I was able to take him down," I say as I nod my head towards my earlier attacker.

This won't be getting me on anyone's good side.

"Really, Marvel?" Cato asks.

"I'm still alive, aren't I?" Marvel mocks.

"Yeah, but he was able to control you long enough to convince you that he could find Twelve," the blonde girl snaps.

Marvel clenches his jaw and looks away from the others. A Career's most embarrassing fear – getting taken down by a non-Career.

"You can stay," Cato tells me. "But the second you do anything suspicious, you're dead."

I nod, knowing he means every word.

District Three Kid has been talking to the girl from Two, and something he's said has kept her from killing him. He's much younger than all of us; maybe only thirteen. This could explain the fear in his dark eyes. His dark hair is plastered to his pale skin, the usual from District Three.

"Cato," the girl from Two starts. "He says he can set the bombs to go off."

"The bombs?" Cato asks, looking to District Three Kid.

"There are bombs around each tribute plate," he says in a shaky voice. "If a tribute steps off before the sixty seconds are up, then they go off. But I can reset them to go off if someone puts any pressure on them."

Cato thinks a moment before speaking up again.

"What do you think, Clove?" he asks the girl from Two.

"He could be helpful," she answers as she lets go of the boy's arm and then he slumps against the Cornucopia.

"I guess," Cato says. "Then he needs to start working on that; figure out how long it will take and if it will even work." He looks to me. "And wrap your arm up."

We all start gathering supplies and I follow District Three Kid. He's definitely no Career, and something about him makes me feel like he hates the idea of the Games as much as I do.

I find a first aid kit in the mouth of the Cornucopia as he starts stomping on the ground a few feet away. He stops somewhere a little closer to me and then begins to dig. I take my eyes off him and unzip the kit to start fixing my arm. something to help my ankle wouldn't hurt, either.

"Is it broken?" the boy asks me, the shaking in his voice gone along with the Careers.

I'm not sure if he wants to know so I would be an easier target or if he actually cares.

"If what's broken?" I ask, hoping I could avoid it.

"Your ankle, you were limping," he continues.

I look down to the ankle that I twisted in the fight with the boy in the beginning. It's still throbbing with pain, but it's not broken.

"I think it's just twisted," I tell the truth.

I attempt to wrap the bandages around my upper arm, but it's no use. Moving it only makes it hurt more, so using only my mouth and my good arm isn't working so well.

"Need some help?" District Three Kid asks.

For some reason I trust him a little. Maybe because of his young age and how helpless he looked when Clove was talking to him. Besides, I'm twice his size and there's no doubt I'm stronger than him.

"Sure," I answer cautiously.

He moves quickly but efficiently, making sure the gauze stays in place.

"Thanks," I say. Maybe he is trustworthy. At least for now. "Do you think the bombs will work?"

"I think so," he says as he looks down at them. "I just need a few things."

I look back to where the Careers are setting up a tent at the wood's edge and decide to make it back there. With one painful movement, I push myself up and make my way back to the lake. I hear the boy run up next to me so we are walking side-by-side, but think nothing of it. When we reach the campsite at the lake, I see the girl from one cleaning arrows and I'm furious. Those were Katniss' lifeline in the Games.

"We need you to help us hunt tonight," Cato tells me.

"But we have plenty-" I start, but then I realize they aren't talking about food. They're talking about people. "Yeah, I'll go."

I don't think I have much of a choice.

"And what about you, District Three. You think you can set off the mines?" Cato asks.

"Yes, if I just had some wire," he says in the same shaky voice he had earlier.

"There's wire around her somewhere. Here always is," Cato says. "Anyone see where District Twelve went to?"

Suddenly, a cannon goes off. And another. By the end of all of them, I count a total of eleven. In just one day, just a couple hours, eleven children are dead. Gone. Their families grieving and mourning. All because of the Capitol.

"I saw her running off into the woods," Anastasia - I think someone called her - says.

"Then we're going to the woods," Cato announces with a smile.

He and everyone else pick up a sword and they slide it into their belts. I pick up the knife I took from Marvel when we first fought at the initial Cornucopia fight.

The sun is even with the treetops now, giving the woods an eerie twilight effect. I'm nervous as we split up, leaving Clove and District Three Kid behind to guard the camp.

I put the least amount of pressure on my hurt ankle and try not to move my bad arm as we head into the woods. Nearly every part of me is in some kind of pain, and there's nothing I can do to stop that. Of course, this is how the Games are supposed to be. Sore and aching and hungry. Exactly how the citizens want us to feel.

Hopefully Katniss is still moving, or is high up in a tree where no one can reach her. She must be. We are only a few yards into the woods when Cato and Marvel turn on their flashlights. With each step we take it gets a little colder. Eventually I'm shivering and I have my jacket wrapped tightly around me.

I catch a glimpse of a barely noticeable light down the ridge. A fire that's just started, by the way it barely flickers. The Careers don't notice; they're facing the other direction.

I could tell them. It's not Katniss, surely. She isn't dumb enough to start a fire. But it's freezing now, and she could have lost her jacket. No, she still wouldn't start a fire. It's cold, but not enough to be damaging to a person's health. If I did tell them, it would be my fault for this person's death. But if I don't, they could find Katniss.

"Someone's started a fire," I whisper, making up my mind. To get Katniss home, this person will have to perish, anyways.

They all turn around, and I point to the flames in the distance. They look to each other excitedly. The thought of bloodshed.

They turn off their flashlights and we give our eyes a moment to adjust before we start trudging through the dark woods. I follow reluctantly in the very back. I'm sure one of them will want to do it. They won't make me do it, will they? I've already killed one person so far…

We all walk up quietly, and Anastasia offers to kill whoever it is.

"No, I'll do it," Cato says.

He lifts his hand up and starts counting back from five on his fingers. At one, we all break into a run. The person by the fire is a girl just a little younger than me, sleeping. At least she was. By the sounds of our footsteps, she bolts awake. She only gets out one loud shriek before Cato's sword dives into her stomach, and she falls back to the ground.

And he laughs.

He kills someone while they're half asleep, and he _laughs._ Everyone immediately congratulates him, and I join in so I don't look like a traitor.

"Twelve down and eleven to go!" Anastasia says and everyone hoots.

"Is there anything good on her?" Marvel asks.

"No. just some crackers," Cato ansers. "Better clear out so they can get the body before it starts stinking."

I check the trees when they aren't looking, but I don't see Katniss anywhere. Hopefull she's far away; she can't know that I'm with the Careers.

I walk in front of everyone, making it look like know where Katniss would hide. I make sure to get far enough from the girl so I don't have to listen to her groans of pain.

"Shouldn't we have heard a cannon by now?" Marvel asks.

"I'd say yes," Anastasia says. "Nothing to prevent them from going in immediately."

"Unless she isn't dead," Marvels says.

"She's dead. I stuck her myself," Cato says.

"Someone should go back. Make sure the job's done," Marvel suggests.

"Yeah, we don't want to have to track her down twice," Anastasia says.

"I said she's dead!" Cato snaps.

I can't listen to them talk about the girl. She's suffering, and it needs to end. Now. "We're wasting time!" I shout. "I'll go finish her and let's move on!"

"Go on then, Lover Boy," Cato says as he hands me his flashlight. "See for yourself."

I limp back to the girl, who is now huddled in her own pool of blood. I can't save her. And even if I did, he Careers would know because no cannon would fire.

"Don't," she mumbles with trembling lips. "Please."

I don't know what to say, but I want her to know that I'm doing this for the better.

"It won't hurt anymore," I say as I remove my knife from my belt.

She seems to realize that this is the best way, but it only makes her labored sobs worse. The best I can do is hold her hand, which she grips as tightly as she can, and I make the job quick with one cut. I have to keep telling myself that I'm doing her a favor, because it sure doesn't feel like one.

At least the rest of Panem will know I'm not a cold-heated killer like the true Careers.

Her grip on my hand losens, and I put out the fire before making my way back to the Careers. The only thing that I can register is that this was my first kill. Hopefully my last. Her death may not be because of me, but I was still the one that ended her life.

"Was she dead?" Cato asks.

"No, but she is now," I answer and just then her cannon fires. "Ready to move on?"

I sure am.

Cato nods and then we continue through the woods, away from the girl whose death will always be on my conscience.

* * *

><p><strong>This is pretty much the chapter that gave me the idea to write the entire story. I was reading the books and thought, "How <em>did<em> he get with the Careers?" I wanted to write a little one-shot on it, but then I realized i needed some background info. So that ended up turning into the entire book.**

**Anyways, this one was over 3,000 words! A happy little surprise to brighten up your boring Wednesday, perhaps? If it wasn't boring, then bravo. Continue to make future Wednesdays just as fantastic.**

**NOTES, DEARIES:**

** ANASTASIA is the name of a beach an hour or so away of my usual one. I thought it would make a pretty name, too bad it was given to a Career ): **


	13. Lakes and Fires

**Savindie:**** you were right about the bloodbath. I realized this while I was writing it, but for some reason decided not to change it. Thanks for your review!**

* * *

><p>We hunt the rest of the night and luckily find no one else. When we get back to the lake, someone else takes watch and I'm able to sleep, finally. The sky is starting to get steaks of pink in it and my ankle kills from walking on it all night. Being the newcomer of the group, I don't get a sleeping bag to rest in since there aren't enough for everyone. The tent is barely big enough to hold the five of us that are sleeping while Glimmer keeps watch with District Three Kid. Even with cold-blooded killers next to me, I'm able to find my own little space and fall asleep.<p>

"Wake up, District Twelve," someone says as they nudge me with their foot. I look up and see Glimmer standing over me. "It's your shift."

I get up and begin to walk outside to take watch. Before I realize what I'm doing, I put too much weight on my ankle. I wait for the pain to come, but it doesn't. It's just a little stiff from being still for so long. Maybe it was just twisted. Whatever I did to my ankle, it couldn't have been too serious. When I step outside the tent, the mid-day sun blinds me for a moment. And it's warm. What are the Gamemakers doing? Freezing us at night and cooking us during the day is just another way to entertain the Capitol citizens, I guess.

I see District Three Kid sitting by a pile of supplies, looking over his shoulder every once in a while to check for intruders.

"Have you slept yet?" I ask as I sit down next to him.

He eyes me suspiciously at first, but then calms down. "No."

"They haven't let you?"

"That and I don't want to. I don't completely trust them yet."

"I don't either." I look around quickly, knowing one of them could be just a few feet behind me.

"I don't think they trust us all that much either," he says.

"Why would they? I haven't really done anything to earn it," I answer. I'm not sure why I'm telling him this, maybe I just need to rant. But it does make me feel a little better knowing that someone feels the same about the Careers.

"You went back and killed that girl from District Eight. That must mean something to them."

"They told you?"

"Not exactly. I heard Glimmer and Clove talking about it."

I look back to the lake, still feeling ashamed of what I did. It was for the best though. I did her a favor. But I didn't do the boy from Five a favor.

"You didn't want to?" he asks quietly, almost reading my mind.

"I never wanted to kill anyone. But in here you have to, and someone had to put the girl out of her misery," I say, hating Cato for making her go through that.

He nods, not saying anything else for a while.

"I'm Lennox, by the way," he says out of nowhere.

He holds out his hand and I shake it. "Peeta," I say as I realize we sort of made an alliance of our own.

We keep watch for a little while longer until we hear the Careers' voices and Lennox goes back to working on the mines. They walk up next to us, glancing at Lennox every once in a while.

"We each get a pack of jerky and some bread," Marvel says as he opens the packages of the things. "Lover boy will stay behind and guard while District Three works on the mines."

I take my food gratefully; the last time I ate was last night, and that was only some crackers.

They leave the two of us on guard, but I would rather be following them. If they come across Katniss, I could at least be there to help her fight them off. Without a bow and arrows, how safe can she be?

"So do you love the girl?" Lennox asks out of nowhere, but he doesn't look up from what he's doing.

I wait a while before answering, making sure there is absolutely no one around even though the rest of the Careers have disappeared. And I have to let Panem know I didn't lie to them. "Yes."

"Thought so. But why are you with the Careers?" he asks.

It feels weird telling this kid - who is technically an opponent - my plan. But he hates the Careers as much as I do, and he's only helped me so far. He's Done nothing to show that he's against me. I finally decide that how Panem sees me outweighs the little chance that Lennox could be plotting against me.

"I thought that as long as I was with them, I could at least steer them away from her," I say. There. Now everyone knows the truth.

"But what if they find her?"

"I'll make sure they don't make her death painful," I lie. I'll die to make sure none of them touch her, but the Capitol can't know this plan. If they find out, they could kill me easily in the arena with the touch of a button. Or Katniss. Just the thought of her dying, going through the same fear that I felt when Marvel pulled that knife out, makes my stomach turn the wrong way. If Cato finds her, he will make her death as gruesome as possible. I _can't_ let him find her. I can't.

I need to change the subject. "Did you have anyone back in Three?" I ask.

Lennox is back to working on the mines, his head turned away from me. "No. Well, I haven't found anyone I'm willing to die for."

I pray that no one picks up on this comparison of my love for Katniss.

"So there's someone at least a little special," I say

"Yeah," he says as a small smile crosses his face. "Yeah, there is."

I leave it at that. Maybe the person knows who he's talking about and the mystery person is smiling, too. At least in a time so serious, I've been able to make two people smile.

"That should do it for this one," Lennox says as he starts covering the wires with dirt. "Just sixteen more to go."

We get up and I wipe my forehead, which is now wet with sweat. Lennox is the same. I internally curse at the Gamemakers for messing with the weather. Lennox is about to sit down at the next plate when I look to the lake. I've never seen so much water in my life. I can't swim – I've never gotten the chance – but the water seems cool and refreshing.

"Do you know how to swim?" I ask Lennox.

He looks at me, confused as to why my question is so random.

"We're both sweating, and the rest of them aren't here. We'll be able to see if anyone tries to steal any supplies," I continue.

He looks to the lake, and then to the plate with the mine he should be working on. "Okay."

I smile, and take off running to the lake. Back in District Twelve, sometimes the ditches would fill up after it had been raining for a while and that would give us the deepest pool of water we could find. But this lake is huge, and it sparkles in the afternoon sun.

I stop when I hear a cannon. Was it the Careers that killed? Or was it another tribute killing one of them? I can't worry about it now. It must have happened far away somewhere, and I need to let myself relax.

I gingerly take the bandages off my arm and then my shoes and shirts come off too and jump in. I'm so eager to get into the water that I leave my heavy pants on and instantly regret it. They might still be wet by the time night falls.

_Too late now_, I think.

I'm careful to make sure the water doesn't go past my shoulders. But Lennox is far past me, swimming far into the lake and diving under water.

I dunk my head under water and then let the cool droplets run down my face, letting the moment sink in. Here we are in the Hunger Games, a fight to the death, and we're relaxing and swimming in a sparkling lake. Surely we are being blocked from any and all TV screens right now. I stay in the water for as long as my anxiety will allow me before heading back to the clothes I left on the shore.

"Don't you think it would be best to go back?" I ask Lennox, who is still out in the lake.

"They won't be back for a while!" he calls back.

I don't want to take my chances. And unlike Lennox, my pants are soaked with lake water. He left his on a rock, swimming only in his undershorts. I have to give mine a chance to dry before the rest of the Careers get back. I put on the rest of my clothes and then carry my boots back to the plate Lennox was going to work on. After a few minutes, he's back and shaking his head, causing cool droplets to go everywhere.

"Where did you learn to swim?" I ask as I slip a boot on. "We don't have any lakes in District Twelve. Only wells."

"Oh, we have a few in Three," he answers as I put my other boot on.

We talk about little things that won't upset either of us, and I can't help but twisting the little leather bracelet around my wrist. Before there were dirt, grease, food, stains on it. Now there is a new one.

Blood.

Along with all the memories of my father it holds, it now has some of the arena on it. I twist it again, and then look into seemingly empty space. I want my family o know that I'm still thinking about them, and they will know now. If the cameras are focused on me, of course.

I look behind me when I hear voices and see the rest of the group emerging from the tall grass. They are smiling as I count how many there are. Five. So they have another death on their hands.

"You almost done with those mines?" Marvel asks Lennox as he passes us.

"I've done nine," Lennox says in the shaky voice he had earlier. He couldn't be _that_ scared of them, could he? Enough to make his voice shake? He's young at much smaller than any of them, but still… they aren't threatening him.

Then I get it. It's an act. I have to admit it's smarter than pretending to be stronger than you really are. At least he Careers won't think of him as a threat.

"That's all?" Marvel asks, his hand twitching towards the knife in his belt.

"Y-yes. I'm going as fast as I can," Lennox almost pleads.

Marvel sighs. "You'll have at least six more done by tomorrow morning."

This isn't a suggestion or a question, but a threat. If Lennox doesn't finish the six more plates, he'll be dead.

"He needs more time than that," I say.

Marvel looks to me like I've just insulted him in the worst way possible. Although, I have challenged his command, so he could have taken it that way. Despite the fear I'm in, I stand still and keep my face serious.

The fury shown through Marvel's features fades, and he looks back to Lennox. "How many can you get done by tomorrow morning?" he asks, his voice emitting no less anger than before.

"Three. I think," Lennox answers.

"Fine. Three by morning."

Then Marvel walks past me, giving me a glare as he does. I know I'm far from his favorite, especially since I embarrassed him in front of everyone yesterday and just now went against his command, in a way. I follow him and walk in on Cato's complaining of how he can't find Katniss.

"You," he says as he points to me. "You're helping us find the girl from Twelve."

"Good," I say and I add a smirk.

And I know I'll do a perfect job of steering them away from her.

Anastasia opens a box attached to a silver parachute that she got while they were in the grass fields. From it, she pulls six apples and gives one to each of us. I can't help but wonder if Haymitch has sent Katniss anything. Maybe it's like me; she isn't starving or harmed too badly so she wouldn't need anything.

"What is she good at?" Cato asks with a mouth full of apple, leaving the question open for anyone to answer.

Everyone shrugs, and eventually all eyes are on me.

"I'm not sure," I lie.

"Come on, you would have had to notice something," Glimmer says.

"She's good at camouflage," I lie again. "She was good at blending in with the ground and in bushes."

I'm sure everyone paying attention is laughing. Katniss, I'm almost certain, has been hiding in trees this entire time. And now I have the Careers thinking she'll be on the ground. Perfect.

"We'll use the glasses and that will help us see her at night when she thinks she's hidden better," Anastasia says.

"What about weapons?" Marvel asks.

"She never said anything. And we didn't really go near any weapons during training," I say.

"Then how did she get that eleven?" Clove asks.

"She didn't say anything about that, either," I answer.

All of them are frustrated now. Oh, just wait after days of searching and they still can't find Katniss. Then they'll be frustrated.

"At least we know where she'll be," Marvel grumbles. "Once it gets dark, we'll go look for her,"

We spend about two hours eating, sharpening knives, some of us sleeping. I'm given a bigger knife than the small one I had before, and I can't help but cringe when I think I see blood on it. But it's just part of an apple peel.

Once the sun finally goes down, we make our way into the forest. I want to laugh every time is see one of them check a bush or a mysterious-looking hole in the ground. They only look up to the trees every once in a while, which gives Katniss plenty of time to run if she needs to.

We walk on for hours until the shivering finally gets the best of me – it's even colder than last night. By now, all of our hoods are wrapped tightly around our heads and our jackets zipped up to our chins.

"Maybe we can wait until morning," Anastasia suggests. "It'll be warmer by then."

"No," Cato says. "That's when she'll be expecting us. We have to keep moving."

"Maybe if we moved faster we would stay warmer," I say. With the cold giving the cut on my arm a strange ache, I think getting a little blood moving would help. And if we move faster, they might miss something that could lead them to Katniss.

"We have slowed down a bit," Clove says as she stops to turn around and face the rest of us.

"Fine. But we need to have energy left for when we actually see her," Marvel says.

We all nod and then follow Cato, who is wearing the night glasses. The moon is out just enough to let us see where the next person is, but not much farther. We keep walking on, occasionally tripping over something, and still find no one. I end up ramming into someone in front of me when they stop suddenly, and I don't hear any more footsteps.

Did they find her? They couldn't have. My heart beats faster and I can hear it in my ears when I hear someone shift.

_Please don't be her. Please._

My hand moves instinctively to the knife on my belt, ready to attack if anyone wants to hurt Katniss. But there's no way I could take on all four of them. Not with glimmer's bow or Clove's scary accurate knife throwing.

"Do you smell that?" someone asks. I think it was Marvel.

"Fire?" Glimmer says.

"It's smoke," Cato says. "Someone's lit a fire."

Then we're running. I'm tripping over roots I can't see and catching my foot in holes that are invisible in this darkness. Suddenly I hear something rush past me. Some animal, by the sound of its gait. And then birds. And then more little creatures, running in the opposite direction as us.

But they keep running.

Could they be so stupid? These animals have instincts; we should be following them. And the smoke…. That doesn't smell like the stuff from the furnace back home. It's more pungent. It smells like more than a few small logs burning. Like the entire forest is burning.

I stop in my tracks. A wall of fire is descending down the ridge, confirming my suspicions as soon as I realize them in my head. Its flames reach up to the very top of the trees, and it's moving fast. Too fast. Was this something the Gamemakers came up with?

Of course it is. This is no campfire accident.

I'm already running in the other direction before the others turn around. But without the glasses Cato was using to see – and lead us all – I end up falling face first in to the dirt. The others rush past me except for one, who trips on the same log I tripped over. As I get up, I notice the light from the fire has lit up the ground a little. I make the stupid mistake of looking back, and see the fire isn't too far away from us now.

I'm back on my feet, using the light from the fire to follow the Careers back to the lake. But the fire must be moving as fast as we can run, because I'm starting to feel the heat on my back. I cough as I breathe in more smoke. I can't die. I won't. With adrenalin pumping, I don't even feel my muscles. All I can think about is getting out of here without being burned alive.

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><p><strong>Thanks for pointing out that i reposted ch 12! I would have never noticed:P<strong>

**NOTES FOR YA:**

** The name LENNOX came from Macbeth. I had to go with the whole "Shakespeare" theme Collins went with when she named the stylists and prep team. Lennox was a trustworthy thane (soldier, in a way) and helped King Duncan, an innocent man who Macbeth kills. I thought it fit well since he is trustworthy and a friend to Peeta, but ends up getting killed by Cato after the food is blown up by Katniss. **

**So reading in English actually has helped me in life. Huh.**


	14. Instincts

**In honor of The Hunger Games movie premier tonight (SO excited!), I thought I would post this chapter early:) Enjoy!**

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><p>Keep running. Dodge the tree. Jump over the roots. The only thing going through my mind is getting away from the fire.<p>

At least until I think of Katniss.

Is she up in a tree still? Is she running like us? Maybe she's in a pool of water somewhere, protected from the flames. Or maybe she's being driven to the lake like we are.

My feet move faster, trying to get to the front of our group. But the smoke is making me cough. I start to feel dizzy. This can't happen. I pull my shirt over my nose, but my eyes continue to sting and tear up.

I wipe them, but my eyes are closed for a second too long. There's a terrible cracking sound, and then a huge branch falls in front of me. I think I've just barely cheated death until I see the flames on my shirt.

"Ah!" I involuntarily shout as I try to pat my shirt.

I feel cool air coming from the left of me, and I run in that direction as I rip my shirt off. But the damage has already been done. The cold air blasts against my bare, burnt chest, making the pain worse. Don't trip. Ignore the burn.

It's starting to cool off, but I don't dare look behind me. I see the edge of the woods and feel relieved. I start to slow down, and that's when my adrenalin disintegrates.

The rest of the Careers are bent over, coughing. I collapse a few yards behind them all, not able to catch my breath. No matter how deep of a breath I take in, it isn't enough.

With only an unzipped jacket, the cold air feels good on the burn across my chest. But this is barely any relief.

The coughing around me is slowing while mine and another's continue on. Just when I think I can't get any more lightheaded and dizzy, Lennox appears with a canteen in his hand.

"Here," he says with a pained expression on his face.

I quickly take the water and chug it while I stay lying on my back – I don't think I have the energy to sit up yet. I drink like it will be the last water I will ever have while I take in as much air as I can in between each gulp. Each time, my longs seem to be working better. Eventually I can breathe almost normally, and I can start to focus on my burn.

I sit up and see that it is bright pink and just starting to blister. There's a little bit of water left in the canteen. I put some water on my hands and then let it drip onto my burn, but instantly regret it.

The water has been sitting out in the cold, and the drastic change of temperature on my skin only makes the pain worse. I grit my teeth together and put more on, knowing this is the best way to heal it when there's no medicine around. This was the only treatment we had for burns at home; but the burns from baking were nothing compared to this.

The sky is starting to turn a lighter blue, and I know the cold will subside in a while. My burn is on fire still, but the rest of me is covered in Goosebumps and shivers run through my body every couple seconds.

I look around, wondering where Lennox went. I don't have the strength to fill the canteen with water myself. I finally spot him going through several different packs. Maybe he ran out of water.

I pay attention to my burn again. Even the smallest touch feels like a little fire starting again. I need that water. Something. Anything. Sponsors.

Maybe one of them will send in something for this. I have to have some sponsors right? Unless I lost all of them by joining the Careers. But they should know by now, especially with that conversation with Lennox, that I'm doing it for Katniss.

I stop thinking about sponsors and painfully push myself up, my legs feeling like gelatin. My burn is still searing as I make my way down to the lake, not meeting the eyes of anyone else. Finally I get the cold water on my chest and let out a sigh of relief. My body continues to freeze while my burn rages on. I only stop cupping water in my hands and splashing it over my burn when I feel a hand on my shoulder.

"They said your shirt burned," Lennox says with a rolled up shirt in his hand.

"Thanks," I say as I take it. It isn't fitted perfectly like my previous one, but it's close. Exactly the same style as everyone else's, too. It must have come from one of the backpacks. "It caught on fire back there so I had to throw it off me."

Everyone's at the lake now, drinking water and splashing some water on their own burns as well. By the looks of it, I seem to have gotten the worst injuries.

"The girl must have been driven out, too," Glimmer says.

"Unless she got caught in the fire," Cato breathes.

I stop breathing. She couldn't have. I still haven't seen her since the Cornucopia. She could have died in the fire and I wouldn't have been able to hear her cannon go off. She could be dead! Still, lying in a hovercraft being prepared to be sent back to Twelve. I'm struck with fear, and I'm not able to control my words.

"Did you hear any cannons go off?" I ask Lennox, accidentally letting the desperation for an answer seep through my voice.

"One," he answers.

One. I feel the blood drain from my face. If she's dead, I might as well be dead too. I would never be able to find someone I love as much as her. I have nothing left to live for. But I promised Portia I would try and I promised my family as well. I can't let them down. But just how hard will it be to win now that I've lost most of my motivation to stay alive?

"I guess we'll find out tomorrow night," Anastasia says as she leans back and wraps her jacket tighter around her.

We decide to spend tomorrow resting except for whoever feel sup to going out and looking for people. Clove thinks that since they couldn't find anyone today, the Gamemakers will find another way to push everyone back to the Cornucopia. I decide to take watch first, not wanting to endure the nightmares that are sure to be filled with Katniss and fire.

I sit a few feet away from Lennox while he works on the mines, and I try to keep my hopes up as the sun starts to rise. I keep my back facing the sun, knowing that sunlight will make the burn feel ten times worse.

"Do you think she's dead?" I ask after making sure no one is around.

"No," Lennox answers, not looking up from his mines. "She seemed smart enough to get away from the fire."

"She is," I say with a smile.

What was I worrying about? Katniss knows enough to get away when she smells smoke like that. With all those days spent in the woods, I'm sure she wasn't tripping over roots like I was while running away. She knows the forest floor better than I do.

I end up lying down and falling asleep in the shade of the Cornucopia. I must have gotten a few hours of sleep because when Lennox wakes me up, the sun is directly above me.

"They're waking up," Lennox says, referring to the Careers. If they found out I was sleeping, I would be dead for sure.

I sit up and feel the full effects of last night's running and burns. My heart beats heavily in my chest just from simple movements, and my burn feels ten times hotter when the sun hits it.

"Have you gotten anything from sponsors yet?" I ask Lennox.

"No," he answers. "I haven't really needed anything so far."

"Me neither. But something for this burn would be nice," I say as I look up, expecting Haymitch to get the idea.

Wanting him – or anyone, really – to see just how bad the burn is, I lift my shirt and check on them again. Even worse than last night. Red, blistering skin stares at me. I know I have sponsors, and I know that if they all come together, they can afford something for the burn. But Haymitch still hasn't sent anything. I get that we made a deal to keep Katniss alive, but it would be a lot easier to do that if i was focused on her instead of this burn!

_Whatever. Maybe some water would help._

I spend a few minutes dripping water over the burn until the Careers walk up to us and hand us our lunch – a stack of crackers, some dried fruit, and peanuts.

It disgusts me to listen to them talk about Katniss, how badly they want her dead. She hasn't tried to kill them once. Heck, we haven't even seen her since the Cornucopia. They should be worried about tributes that actually pose a threat to them.

After half a day of them gloating about how much they know about weapons and ways to kill, I'm almost happy when Marvel announces we'll be leaving to go hunt in the woods again. At least then, they'll be quiet.

We're packing up everything when Cato speaks. "Half of us will look on the ground the other half will pay attention to the trees."

No. They'll see her for sure. With one of us wearing those night-vision glasses, she won't be able to escape. I make sure that I take a throwing knife along with my serrated knife, just in case. I hate the fact that I'm, in a way, planning to kill someone. But it's either them or Katniss, and I won't let it be Katniss. But no matter how blood-thirsty these Careers are, I know they have families back home. People that love them and want them to make it home just as much as I want Katniss to make it back.

We're at the edge of the woods when the sun is right at the horizon. Long shadows are cast through the woods, and it's almost serene. If I wasn't rummaging through the woods with five people who want to kill the girl I love, it really would be calming. but now it just feels eerie.

"Check that pool of water we found last time," Clove says.

We all nod and then we turn, going down the hill. We pass a few charred trees, but then find a little trickle of water. We follow the flow of it and it grows wider every few yards. Eventually everyone stops, and I'm left behind them all. Suddenly I hear frantic feet splashing through water. Then we break into a run.

I'm screaming in my head to try and convince me that it's not her, but my instincts tell me otherwise. Glimmer has an cold smile on her face.

I'm running as fast as them, but just barely. The terror I feel for Katniss and the smoke ihilation from last night is slowing me down. In fact, the smoke must have affected everyone. We haven't run since the fire, and this pace is taking its toll on us. Our breathing is heavy, raspy almost. I push myself as far as I can, just barely getting to the front of our group. I have to save Katniss.

Then i see her. Orange backpack and braid bouncing behind her. We're running uphill now, and she suddenly starts climbing a tree.

Relief. So much relief. I can't help but smile when I see she continues to climb even after we've reached the trunk of her tree. She just keeps climbing, making me feel better than I have since we spent time together before we were put in to the arena. No one can reach her now. They're all too big, too heavy to reach those slim branches she's perched on.

And after all these days, I finally get to see her. She's not dead. Maybe not in the best condition, but she was able to run away from us and climb a tree. That's good enough for me.

I can't help but smile when I hear her voice. "How's everything with you?" she calls down cheerily.

This is why I love her. This little bit of sarcasm is enough to make me smile, make me forget that five people want her dead.

"Well enough," Cato says, bringing me back to reality. "Yourself?"

"IT's been a bit warm for my taste," she says in the same cheery voice.

I try as hard as I can, but a quit laugh escapes from me.

"The air's better up here. Why don't you come up?" she continues.

"I think I will," Cato snarls.

Whatever laughter I had before is gone. My hand goes to a knife on my belt.

"Here, take this Cato," Glimmer says as she hands him the bow and arrows.

Now I know Katniss won't even bother to put on an act. Her bow, her lifeline, is in the hand of a Career. I know she must hate me, too, because she might have been able to get them if I hadn't been shaking my head when we first entered the arena. What she doesn't know is that I probably saved her life by doing that.

"No," Cato tells Glimmer. "I'll do better with my sword."

I have my hand wrapped around the handle of the throwing knife now. If I could hit him, maybe even just come close to him, he could fall from the tree. Of course, this would only cause the other five to attack me. This time, I'm prepared. If I have to die right here, at least Katniss will make it home.

Cato makes it to the second or third branch when my knife is all the way out. I have it in a death grip until a branch cracks and he falls flat on his back. I think that he's dead, possibly broke his neck, until he swears and pushes himself up.

"You try, Glimmer," he grumbles.

Katniss is climbing twice as fast as Glimmer is and is nearly at the top of the tree when Glimmer stops, and begins to climb back down. She suddenly strings and arrow and my knife is behind my head, ready to throw it. she releases it before I can throw the knife, and I fear the worst.

And then I want to laugh. It loses its speed quickly and then falls to the ground. She can't even use the weapon. Even when she seems to shoot it right, it lodges into the tree and Katniss teasingly waves it in the air.

"Ugh!" Glimmer exclaims as she stomps back to us.

My knife is back in my belt when everyone turns, leaving me in plain view.

"Someone needs to go up," Cato whispers. "She's making us look like idiots."

"We'll only be able to see with the glasses in half an hour; the sun's almost gone," Clove says.

"If we wait then she'll come down and we can still make it good enough for the Capitol," Anastasia says.

"If I spear her from here it would make her look bad," Marvel says.

"No, that's not good enough," Cato snaps.

"Oh, let her stay up there. It's not like she's going anywhere," I say, outraged again at having to listen to them talk about how to kill her. "We'll deal with her in the morning."

The sun is nearly gone now, and we all lay at the base of the tree. Cato works to light a few dry branches on fire to keep us warm, as the temperature has been dropping steadily since we entered the woods.

"I'll keep watch," I tell them.

I see Marvel look back up to where Katniss is, and then lay down close to the fire. I move a little closer to the fire too, and wrap my jacket around me. I put my back to it since the heat is too much for my burn, and I begin to feel sleepy. I only took a short nap while I was supposed to be keeping watch with Lennox, and now I'm feeling the consequences of not sleeping.

Between all the smoke I breathed in, the lack of sleep, and the warmth of the fire, my eyelids start to droop. But if I fall asleep, they could kill Katniss.

So I stay awake.

After a while, the Careers are all asleep and I envy them. I look up into the tree and can just barely make out Katniss in her sleeping bag, moving slightly. While I'm watching her, I see the Capitol's seal and then the anthem begins to play. I quickly look around the circle of Careers, and I'm happy when I notice that only Anastasia has opened her eyes a bit. She looks around and then finally makes eye contact with me, and I just nod. She closes her eyes again, leaving me relieved.

Sometime in the middle of the night I get some dried fruit from the pack Marvel carried with us. I make sure that everyone is sound asleep before I do this, because I know the consequences could be deadly. With this little amount of food, I'm able to stay awake for quite some time. Eventually, I curse because I can feel myself drift off to sleep.

My eyes shoot open when I hear a huge crack next to me, and I know I have only a few seconds to act once I hear the buzzing.

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><p><strong>Please review, they're appreciated!<strong>


	15. Staring Death in the Face

My muscles react before my mind does. Tracker jackers. I'm already on my feet when I feel a sharp pain just below my ear. Everyone is scattering around, trying to grab packs or items or food, but I keep running.

"To the lake!" Cato shouts. "To the lake!"

Clove was smart enough to run and not worry about any items since she's right behind me. But the tracker jackers are faster than we are. They swarm in front of me as I swat at them, but it's no use. One makes its way to my chest just as I see the edge of the woods. Just a little further...

Clove takes a sharp turn but only a few tracker jackers follow her, leaving the rest to follow me. Another sting sends pain through my chest, and I just can't seem to shake them. I'm passing the Cornucopia, so close to the lake, when the worst sting happens. Right on my burn. I shout out in anger and pain, hoping that it would at least help make one of those more bearable. I'm not so lucky.

I've just barely make it into the water when another one stings me, and I start to feel the full effect of the stings.

As the venom makes its way through my bloodstreams, it makes everything sting. I hold my breath for as long as I can, but eventually have to come up for air. Clove, Marvel, and Cato have all made it into the water and are now breathing heavy, raspy breaths like I am.

I see Lennox in the distance, running towards us. He's carrying a backpack, but something's off about it. It's shiny, like the lake in the sun yesterday. I make my way out of the water, but I'm dizzy. I need to ask him who made it out. I know Glimmer didn't, she was stung the worst before I even left.

Glimmer! She had the bow, the one Katniss wanted. She couldn't have gone back to take it from Glimmer, could she?

I start running, but my legs and lungs don't want to cooperate. I run past Lennox, whose dark hair has become shiny like the backpack. I ignore what I'm seeing and try to make it back to Katniss.

I've just barely made it into the woods when a bird changes from red to a fiery orange, and then actually turns into fire. I know what's happening now – I've heard about it before. Tracker jacker stings cause hallucinations. They aren't real.

I pick up an abandoned spear, just in case any Careers are left.

Then I see a little line of smoke and realize that is where our campfire was. I hear movement that seems too loud for Katniss, and I suspect that Glimmer could be alive. I raise my spear as I push through the bushes, getting ready to defend myself if need be. But I'm surprised when I see Katniss struggling with Glimmer's green tracker jacker-stung body, and I lower my arm.

"What are you still doing here?" I hiss, knowing that a few of the Careers are right behind me. She still doesn't move, and I realize she has been stung. An oversized green lump is on her cheek. "Are you mad?" I start probing her with the shaft of the shaft of my spear, not wanting to get to close to her in fear that I would scare her. She still isn't moving! "Get up! Get up!" I drop my spear when she rises, but she still isn't moving. Why won't she just _move?_ Anger and desperation get the best of me and I give her a hard shove. "Run!" I scream. "Run!"

She's just made her way out of the small clearing when Cato pushes through the bushes, glistening from the tracker jacker stings. His face fills with pure rage, the angriest I've ever seen anyone.

"What did you_ do?"_ he shouts, his face turning red.

Here it is. I'm staring death in the face, and he's furious. I've done what I wanted: I've saved Katniss. She'll make it home, back to Prim and her mother and Gale, and maybe she'll have a happy life with him. At least she'll know that I wanted to save her.

I stand tall and stare Cato in the eyes as Marvel makes his way through the bushes.

"You played us!" Cato yells as he runs at me, sword raised.

I dive for the spear in a last-ditch effort for self-defense, but Cato is quicker.

My hand has just wrapped around the spear when he sword dives deep into my left upper leg. Terrible vibrations run all the way through my leg. The bone. His sword dove deep enough into my leg that he hit the _bone._

Nothing i've ever felt can compare to the agony coursing through my leg. Whatever pain I felt before is like a tiny ant bite.

I'm on my side, holding my leg where Cato cut me, trying to relieve the pain in any way and stop the blood that is beginning to pool beside me. Someone puts their foot on my chest and rolls me over onto my back, causing an involuntary cry of pain to escape from me.

Cato keeps his foot on my chest as I desperately try to reach the gash on my leg, but Cato just laughs. His sword is at my throat now, and I pray that he just kills me. Anything to get me out of this hell.

But isn't this what I told myself and Haymitch that I would be willing to go through to save Katniss? All the cameras must be on me, and I have to look strong for my family.

The weight on my chest is suddenly gone and I'm left to curl back up and clutch my leg.

"What are you doing?" Marvel growls to Cato.

I open my eyes and see Cato looking at me, his sword glimmering with my own blood. "I think the Capitol will like this more. He won't last long with a wound like that."

Clove and Marvel smile. Then they turn and walk away, taking one last glance at me. And they leave me to die.

I grit my teeth and let the screams escape; there's no point in holding them back now. The Careers want me to die as slowly as possible. I catch a glimpse of my token, the tan, leather bracelet of my fathers.

My family. My parents, Eli, Terence.

Portia. I hope she isn't watching this right now, because she doesn't need to feel any grief.

Katniss. I need to tell her how much I love her. How much I need her, why I did everything in my power to save her.

With at least some motivation, I begin taking off my jacket and shirt. Every movement makes the pain worse, but I know I'll have to stop the bleeding. If I don't, I'll die. I promised Portia I would try, and she needs to at least think that I'm still trying to win. Sobs wrack through my body now, making my labored breathing uneven.

Haymitch's last tips come to mind: find water, stay alive.

As much as the thought frightens me, I know I need to move or else I'll die from dehydration.

I sit up and bite my tongue so I don't shout, then I tighten the shirt around my thigh. Even with my tongue bit, a shout escapes. The pain is just too unbearable. I won't be able to walk.

I taste blood in my mouth and realize I've been biting my tongue too hard. I reach for a piece of bark and bite on that, but it offers no relief. I'm beginning to think nothing will. I bite down hard on the wood and prepare for more pain – as if it were even possible.

_One, two, three._

I use my arms to drag myself to where I think the stream will be, but the pain is only worse. My sharp intakes of breath return as I look back to where I was lying just a few inches away. A pool of blood has formed and because I dragged myself I only forced it to spread. If I want to get to the stream, I only have one choice.

I'll have to walk.

I look at the tree that would be just a few drags away. If I could make it there, I could use that to help me up.

Biting down hard on the bark, I'm able to drag myself four times to the base of the tree. Now the hard part. I reach up to a low branch and start to pull myself up as groans of pain find their way out of my mouth.

_I need to see Katniss_.

I'm finally on my feet, letting my bad leg go limp. I keep all my weight on my right leg. Looking down the hill that I'm on, I notice a little glint of sunshine. Water. The stream is barely 100 feet away, but it could cause nothing but agony to get there.

Using the tree for support, I hop on one leg. The pain is worse than it was when I dragged myself, but I have to make it to that stream. It's barely a hundred steps away, but in my condition, it could only make things worse.

With uncontrollable tears running down my face, I make the agonizing trip down the bank of the stream. I take my hand off my leg, knowing it's no use. I need something more absorbent. I lose my balance and end up using a rock to steady myself. Unfortunately, the hand I use to steady myself is the hand that's covered in blood.

_So what? I'll probably die here, anyways._

And I know it's true. Not wanting anyone to find me and make my death more entertaining for the Capitol, I plop down in the mud. I only get a little bit of me covered before exhaustion and agony force me to stop.

_Now would be a good time for Haymitch to pitch in_.

"Haymitch," I say, hoping that he'll hear me.

Maybe I'll just wait here and pray for a silver parachute. I hear buzzing in the distance; the tracker jackers couldn't be back, right? As the buzzing gets louder, I know I have to move. Just a few more stings and their venom could kill me. I lay flat on my back in the bud, but it's too late. They're back and they're five times bigger, stingers glistening with the green venom. I cover my face and hide, but I can still see them dive their stingers into my cut leg before I black out.

Nightmares of Katniss falling into Cato's cruel hands worm their way into my mind. My family being taken by the Capitol. The whole District Twelve crew being taken by Peacekeepers. The dreams are so vivid that I can only tell them apart from reality because I'm able to use both legs perfectly fine in them.

When I awake, I'm still by the stream on my back, mud piled around me. How long has it been? It's earlier in the day than it was when I fell unconscious, so it must be at least a day. Either way, I need water. I look over to the stream flowing with clean water, and I think I can make it over there.

I begin moving towards the water, but pain shooting through my leg forces me to fall back and gasp for air. Right. Cato attacked me after the tracker jackers. I quickly move my hand to my leg and carefully run my hand over the cut, but I feel no stings. It was just another hallucination. But my chest and my ear weren't so lucky; those stings are real.

I wonder if the rest of the Careers think I'm dead. Hopefully they do, or else they'll be coming back for me soon. I look around me and think that the scene would be easy to recreate. I can swirl some mud and put plants on me and I would look like just another area of mud.

Slowly, I sit up and try not to move my leg. I might as well start at my feet and work my way up. I swirl mud and clay until I eventually have most of me covered, just my face is left. I work to make sure even my eyelids are coated in mud so if I close my eyes, I will still blend in. Satisfied with my work, I lie down and let my eyes droop closed.

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><p><strong>Just in case you were a little confused, the tracker jackers didn't come back for Peeta, they were just a hallucination.<strong>

**Sorry if it was a little gruesome, but please review! **


	16. Stay Calm and Camoflauge

I wake up at random times of the day and night. I hear the anthem each time, I think, and I count five in all. Five days of sitting in the mud, unmoving. I remind myself to squeeze water from the plants, but it feels less and less helpful each time. I even try to eat one, seeing that a rabbit came by and wasn't harmed from nibbling on it. A few hours after eating a few bites of it, it came right back up. No use in eating any of that. Each day I feel worse, and each day I remind myself I'm in this situation so Katniss doesn't have to be.

On the morning after the fourth night, I'm startled by a loud boom. Almost like an explosion from the videos we would have to watch in school about the dangers of the mines. My heart beat quickens, and I fear that it could be a cruel trick of the Gamemakers. I think hard, and make the terrible mistake of thinking of Lennox.

Did his mines work? And if they did, was he taken out with them? Who set them off?

Questions run through my head, making it hurt. It could be anyone, everyone, no one. So who made it and who do I have to face? Confusion is replaced with fear when I hear a cannon go off.

Was it Katniss?

I push the thought from my mind and think about what Lennox said back at the Cornucopia. Katniss is smart enough to stay away from the Careers. And if she had gone towards them, she probably would have noticed the areas where Lennox and I covered the bombs back up. We did a fairly good job of making them unnoticeable, but Katniss would be able to notice the earth is packed differently.

Another cannon goes off. Two more dead. That either made it better for Katniss, or she's already gone.

Some time passes as I try to convince myself that Katniss is still alive. She's going home. She'll be back with Prim and her mother and enjoying life as a victor. She-

_Boom!_

Three people dead.

_Katniss is alive. Katniss is alive. Katniss is alive… _

I drift off repeating the words to myself, forcing my mind to believe it. But I won't be sure until tonight.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

The anthem plays for the fifth time and I open my eyes just enough to see the sky. Just taking a deep breath in makes my heart work harder to keep beating, and I know I'm close to dead. Maybe three days at the max.

I'm happy when I see Marvel's picture in the sky. So it was Lennox's bombs that went off. I wait anxiously for the next picture to be shown, but wish I hadn't seen it.

It's Lennox. We helped each other survive the Careers. I shared my secret of my true love for Katniss. He had people back home praying for him to make it to District Three alive. And now he's dead. Laying somewhere in the Capitol being prepped to be sent home. I wish I could say something to his family, but the Capitol would just take the cameras off me as soon as I start talking about it. Friends aren't supposed to exist in the Games: only allies that will stab each other in the back when the time comes.

The picture changes and I know this is the last one. Only three cannons went off today. I'm screaming inside my head at this point that it isn't Katniss. And it's not.

It's Rue.

Little Rue. Little, twelve-year-old Rue. Dead. The youngest one of us all, and she could have been killed at the hands of a Career. Killed ruthlessly like the girl from Eight Cato killed that first night.

But at least Katniss is alive. And me? Alive enough.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

I wake up without a jolt when I hear trumpets. I think it's a dream until I feel the pain in my leg. Still in the arena.

Claudius Templesmith's voice courses through the arena. "Congratulations to the remaining six tributes!" he exclaims. "There has been a change in the rules of these Games."

A _rule change?_ There are no rules! I'm fully awake when he speaks again, curiosity taking over me.

"If two tributes from the same district are the last two alive, then those two will be claimed victors." He pauses and then repeats himself. After so long in the arena, everyone must need to hear it twice to let it soak in.

Two of us can win. My district partner is alive. Katniss is alive. I'm alive. Both of us can live.

I laugh for the first time in weeks.

* * *

><p><strong>First off, sorry for taking so long! I think its been almost three weeks :0 <strong>**And a Peeta-feeling-all-depressed-chapter may not help. But we finally get to the cave scenes in the next chapter! It should be up by the weekend since I have most of it done.**


	17. Found

I finally allow myself to imagine a life with Katniss back home. Victors. Never in the history of the Games has there been there been two victors. And those two victors can be Katniss and me! We can go home and share our winnings with our families and have enough to spare to others.

My family! Eli, Father, Ryan, even my mother. I bet they have the biggest smiles on their faces knowing that Katniss and I will surely team up. But I'm not going anywhere in this condition.

My moment of pure joy fades when the reality of my situation sets in. Katniss will have to find me unless I can get up and move. But the task just seems so impossible when I look to the stream. Just this simple movement of my head makes me nauseous, and I know I'm dehydrated. Just how bad it is, I'm not sure. I need more of those plants, but they're too far away and the ones I pulled have lost their water. I need water in a bottle, something.

Sponsors must have been begging to save me since I saved Katniss. Unless they saw what condition I'm in and turned their attention to Katniss, who will have a better chance of surviving. But now that both of us can live, they have to be trying to save me. Katniss and I, the star-crossed lovers from District 12, must be on the minds of all of Panem now.

I look around, careful not to move my head. No one is around, and the only sounds I hear are those of the stream and animals.

"Haymitch," I say as loud as I dare, but my voice is raspy. I haven't spoken in days. I've barely even had any water. Nothing to eat. Of course my voice sounds so terrible.

"Both of us can live," I say into the air. IF the cameras are on me, he'll be able to hear me.

I wait a few seconds. Nothing comes.

"Please," I beg.

He has to help me. I can't get out of here without help. He _has to_ help me.

"You can't be _that_ drunk, Haymitch!" I shout a little too loud in my hoarse voice.

Anger wells up inside me. There are sponsors. There are plenty of them. So why isn't he helping me? I know we made a plan to save Katniss, but both of us have a chance now!

My ranting continues on inside my head as I keep trying to convince Haymitch to send something. Still nothing comes. Exhausted, I fall unconscious again.

I wake up again mid-day when I hear a voice. I'm alarmed at first, but then I realize it's a hushed voice calling for someone. I can't quite make out the words, just that it's a girl's voice.

My heart skips a beat when I realize whose voice it is. Katniss.

"Peeta!" she calls in a hushed voice.

I look up and see a mockingjay flying a little bit above me. It calls my name a few more times and then stops. That must be where her voice came from. But the bird had to hear it from somewhere, and that means that Katniss is looking for me.

I hear a splash in the water and close my eyes. It has to be her. I can't stop the feeling in my stomach or the smile that creeps across my face. She's here, alive. We can finally be allies and make it home together.

"You here to finish me off, sweetheart?" I say in that same ragged voice as soon as I hear the splash. She'll know it's me by the nickname only Haymitch calls her.

I hear her shift quickly and then her voice. "Peeta?" she whispers. "Where are you?"

I decide to let her find me. If my camouflage is good enough, then I'll have to tell her where I am. A fun little game, maybe.

"Peeta?"

She keeps walking and I suddenly feel the mud move under her weight, and I know she's about to step on me.

"Well, don't step on me."

She moves suddenly and I open my eyes to look at her. She's right here in front of me. She doesn't have any bandages, barely any cuts. No limp. She's in better shape than I imagined. I can't help but smile fully and laugh. I've never been so ecstatic to see someone in my existence.

"Close your eyes again," she orders.

I do as I'm told and press my lips together but the corners remain turned up in a smile.

"I guess all those hours of decorating cakes paid off," she says as I open my eyes again.

I smile again. "Yes, frosting. The final defense of the dying."

"You're not going to die," she says, her face serious.

If she only knew how this past week has been.

"Says who?" I say.

"Says me. We're on the same team now, you know," she says.

I mentally kick myself; how could I be so stupid? In the state I'm in, I'll only bring her down from now on. I'll be more of a liability than anything else. I could be the end of both of us.

I open my eyes again, my smile mostly gone. "So, I heard. Nice of you to find what's left of me."

She pulls out a water bottle and I reluctantly drink the water she gives me. "Did Cato cut you?" she asks.

"Left leg. Up high," I answer.

Any sign of joy on my face must be gone. I'm ecstatic that she's here, not wounded, but she shouldn't have to take care of me.

"Let's get you down to the stream, wash you off so I can see what kind of wounds you've got," she tells me.

"Lean down a minute first. Need to tell you something," I say, and she does what I ask. "Remember, we're madly in love, so it's alright to kiss me anytime you feel like it."

She jerks her head back and laughs. Well, it was worth a try.

We move a little bit of the mud off me, but I've been here so long it's formed tightly around me. I bite my tongue like I did back in the clearing when Cato cut me when she starts pulling me out of the mud. I don't want to worry her by crying out, but I can't help it. I taste blood in my mouth again and know I've bitten too hard. She gives one final, gigantic tug that causes me to yelp and tears trickle down my face.

"Look, Peeta. I'm going to roll you into the stream. It's very shallow here, okay?" she tells me.

"Excellent," I say through gritted teeth.

She crouches down beside me. "On three," she says. I grit my teeth harder and tell myself that no noise will come from me. None. I squeeze my eyes shut when she begins counting. "One, two, three!"

She gets one, agonizing roll in before she stops. I failed myself again – groans of pain still passed my lips.

"Okay, change of plans. I'm not going to roll you all the way in," she tells me.

"No more rolling?" I ask through heavy breathing.

"That's all done. Let's get you cleaned up. Keep an eye on the woods for me, okay?" she says.

I finally realize how hot the sun is when she takes my jacket off and I feel so much cooler. Once my shirt and undershirt are off, I see just how much weight I've lost. Whatever muscle mass I had before is almost gone. Even my ribcage is showing a little bit. The burn that I thought had gotten a bit better actually hasn't – it's still bright red. And the tracker jacker stings: even worse than I imagined. The three on my chest are green and the size of fruit.

With another agonizing move, she sits me up against a boulder. That feeling is in my stomach again when her face is just inches from mine as she rinses out my hair. She begins chewing on leaves, and I'm about to ask her why when she pulls a tracker jacker stinger out of a lump, causing me to wince. When she puts the chewed leaf concoction on the sting, I can't top the sigh of relief that escapes. She has special cream that stops the pain from the burn on my chest.

"Swallow these," she tells me as she hands me two pills. Whatever it is, I take it and know it will help me somehow. "You must be hungry."

"Not really. It's funny, I haven't been hungry for days," I say. The last thing I ate was a few of those plant roots.

"Peeta, we need to get some food in you," she says.

"It'll just come right back up," I object, thinking about the last time I ate those plants.

When she puts a slice of dried apple in front of me, I turn my head away. The nausea has been persistent, making me feel dizzy since I woke up. Reluctantly, I eat a few, just to make her happy.

"Thanks. I'm so much better, really," I lie. "Can we sleep now, Katniss?"

"Soon," she says. "I need to look at your leg first."

As gentle as anyone could be, she removes my boots, my socks, and then the pants. This time only a quiet sound makes it past my lips, but I don't think she heard it.

She gets almost a scared look on her face, and I think she's going to be sick. _I_ think I might be sick. The cut has only gotten worse over the past week, swelling and oozing blood and pus.

"Pretty aweful, huh?" I ask. S

_She shouldn't have to deal with this,_ I continue to tell myself.

"So-so," she says as she shrugs like it's no big deal.

Yeah, right. I watch her closely and I'm able to tell just how terrible of a liar she is.

"You should see some of the people they bring to my mother form the mines." If I could deal with this myself, I would. But I have no idea what to do. "First thing is to clean it well."

She starts with the water bottles again, pouring water over me until all the dirt is gone.

"Why don't we give it some air and then…" she trails off.

"And then you'll patch it up?" I finish. I hate that she's doing this for me.

"That's right. In the meantime, you eat these," she says as she hands me dried pear halves. When she turns around to wash the clothes in the stream, I bury one of the pear halves in the mud. I still feel nauseous, but I think I can eat at least one.

She lays them out on a rock and then sits on a rock next to me to look through a first-aid kit. "We're going to have to experiment some," she says.

She chews up more leaves and carefully presses them into the gash on my leg, causing fresh pain to run through me. I keep my eyes on her face, not wanting to look at the horror of my leg. Whatever color she had in her face is gone, and I think she's about to lose her stomach.

"Katniss?" I ask. she looks into my eyes and I hope to get her mind off the healing process a little. I only mouth the words. "How about that kiss?"

She laughs again at the idea of kissing me. She came to find me, and she's going through this to help me. She must have at least some feelings for me inside her!

"Something wrong?" I ask.

"I… I'm no good at this," she says. "I'm not my mother. I have no idea what I'm doing and I hate pus. Euh!" She removes the leaves and then replaces them with new ones. "Euuuh!"

I allow myself to laugh a little. She spends so much of her time hunting – wouldn't she be used stuff like this by now? "How do you hunt?" I ask.

"Trust me. Killing things is much easier than this," she admits. "Although for all I know, I am killing you."

"Can you speed it up a little?" I ask.

"No. Shut up and eat your pears."

I chuckle and do as I'm told. Even in this situation, she still manages to be herself. How could someone not love her? Finally, I allow myself to feel this way. There's still a chance, even if it's slight, that both of us can make it back to twelve.

"What next, Dr. Everdeen?" I ask.

"Maybe I'll put some burn ointment on it. I think it helps with infection anyway," she says. "And wrap it up?"

She wraps it in clean, white cotton and I feel so much better, even if the pain has only gone down a little. At least I don't have to worry about infection any more.

"Here, cover yourself with this and I'll wash your shorts," she says as she hands me a backpack.

"Oh, I don't care if you see me," I tell her.

"You're just like the rest of my family," she groans as she rolls her eyes. "I care, all right?"

She turns her back towards me and I wiggle out of my undershorts and throw them into the current, but it stretches my leg a little and I bite the inside of my cheek to stop any sound.

"You know, youre kind of squeamish for such a lethal person," I say as she beats the shorts on a rock. "I wish I'd let you give Haymitch a shower after all."

"What's he sent you so far?" she asks.

"Not a thing," I answer. But she sounds like she's gotten something from him by the way she asks. "Why, did you get something?"

"Burn medicine," she admits, her voice a little quieter. "Oh, and some bread."

Burn medicine must have cost a fortune. And bread? She can hunt! Of course, I'm gad he made sure she had enough. But I asked – no, _begged_ – for him to send me something to save my life when we all knew both Katniss and me could make it out alive.

"I always knew you were his favorite," I say.

"Please, he can't stand being in the same room with me," she says.

"Because you're just alike," I say under my breath.

She sits down and begins drinking water, and I take this chance to sleep. I wake again with Katniss's face right in front of mine and her hand on my shoulder.

"Peeta, we've got to go now."

"Go?" I ask. My mind is still jumbled from her being so close. "Go where?"

"Away from here. Downstream maybe. Somewhere we can hide until you're stronger." She helps me dress but holds my boots. She helps me stand up, but the pain comes right back. My breath hitches in my throat, and I can feel myself get dizzy again. "Come on, you can do this."

I try to believe her as we walk through the water. Even with me putting no weight on my leg and her helping my along, the pain is too much to bear. She finally stops and I plop down on the bank and rest my head on my hands as she looks around. After a while, she has to half-carry me to a little cave structure.

Once inside, I feel the way I did when I was still lying in the mud. The walk downstream has taken all the energy and I'm panting like a wild dog, and it's starting to get cold again. I watch while Katniss covers the cave floor with pine needles and allow my breathing to slow down. She covers the front of the cave with vines, and comes back inside looking frustrated. But all I can think about is how she spent an entire, grueling day to help me.

"Katniss," I say. She calms down a little and then moves the hair out of my eyes. "Thanks for finding me." I would surely have died if she hadn't found me.

"You would have found me if you could," she says.

"Yes. Look, If I don't make it back-"

"Don't talk like that. I didn't drain all that pus for nothing," she tells me.

"I know. But just in case I don't-" I'm cut off again.

"No, Peeta, I don't even want to discuss it," she says and she puts her fingers on my lips.

Ignoring the contact the best I can, I focus on what I need to say.

"But I –" I insist.

I only get out that one bit before her lips are on mine, silencing me.

This can't be happening.

She feels the same! She really does! I know for _sure_ she does, now. All these years, wanting to talk to her but never finding the right time and now we're _here_. My heart is still soaring when she pulls away.

"You're not going to die. I forbid it," she says firmly. "All right?"

"All right," I whisper.

I watch her lovingly as she steps out of the cave. She just _kissed _me. The thought keeps running through my mind as everything in me starts to go limp from exhaustion and my eyes close. I'm only half asleep when Katniss comes back in.

I wake with a skip in my heartbeat when I feel her lips against mine again. I smile again, this whole thing feeling too surreal. She holds up a pot with a little parachute attached to it. "Peeta, look what Haymitch as sent you."


	18. Deceived

**I hate admitting to this, but I found this chapter in my computer. Apparently it's just been sitting there, completely finsished, for a month (2 maybe?). But, still, I have failed to have my book returned to me. Hopefully this will hold you over until I get it back!**

"Peeta, I swear if you don't eat this I'll… I'll–"

"You'll what?" I press, a weak smile creeping onto my face. "Obviously you don't want me dead."

She gives an exasperated sigh. "You've barely eaten anything."

"I'll be able to eat soon," I lie.

"Not eating will just make it worse," she tells me.

I turn my nose away from the spoonful of broth Katniss holds in front of me.

"Peeta, you _need_ _food._ Please just take a few sips?" she begs.

I shake my head.

"Please?" she asks again, this time her eyelashes fluttering and a certain sad look in her face. It's adorable. But I can't drink any broth; I feel nauseous just looking at it.

"It won't stay down," I say.

"You've gotten better since you were in the mud. The pears never came back up, did they?" she asks.

I open my mouth to object, trying to think of something, but I can't. "No, they didn't," I answer, hating that she's right.

"Then this won't, either."

I glare at her, hoping she'll get that I just _don't want to eat it_. I don't even feel hungry. She just smiles slightly and moves the spoon closer to my mouth.

Again, I turn my head.

With a sigh, she put the spoon back in the pot and leans close to me. My breathing catches when she lingers a few inches away from me before finally kissing me.

"Please?" she asks once she pulls away.

I nod hesitantly, deciding if I should prolong this or if I should just give in and eat the soup. I choose the latter, knowing that she would catch on. After a few more kisses, I finish the pot of broth and Katniss eats a bird she shot earlier. Surprisingly, I start to feel a little better. Everything is still too warm, even though the sun is descending closer to the horizon. With the nausea somewhat gone, I let my drowsiness win and I fall asleep.

* * *

><p>I wake up with the sleeping bag feeling roomier than it should be – Katniss crawled in last night with no objection from me. I hadn't even noticed when she did so, I only saw her after I woke up from a nightmare. But after I knew she was right there next to me, I didn't have a single nightmare for the rest of the night.<p>

"Katniss?" I call quietly.

No response.

Where is she? Did Cato find her? No. I would have heard something. I couldn't have been in that deep of a sleep.

I sit up in the sleeping bag, forgetting about my leg, and I bite my tongue again. The pain has gone down since Katniss fixed me up yesterday, but it's still there. At least it's a bit more manageable.

I hear a little rustle of vines around the outside of the cave. I fear the worst, but Katniss walks in and the breath I was holding comes rushing out of me.

"I woke up and you were gone," I say. "I was worried about you."

She laughs – an amazing sound to hear after thinking she was dead – as she eases me back down. "You were worried about me? Have you taken a look at yourself lately?"

"I thought Cato and Clove might have found you," I say, a little of the fear still lingering in me. "They like to hunt at night."

"Clove? Which one is that?" she asks.

"The girl from two," I answer. "She's still alive, right?"

"Yes. There's just them and us and Thresh and Foxface. That's what I named the girl from Five," she says. "How do you feel?"

"Better than yesterday. This is an enormous improvement over the mud," I say. "Clean clothes and medicine and a sleeping bag… and you."

I know. It's a bit of a stretch to say this to someone like Katniss. But it's true. It's tremendously better with her here.

She hesitates for a moment before speaking. "No more kisses for you until you've eaten."

Finally, some motivation!

She helps me sit up against the wall and I ben my stiff right leg and keep my bad leg stretched out in front of me. Surprisingly, I'm not as nauseous as I was yesterday; the food helped a little. So I eat whatever she put in front of me, except the bird. I know for a fact my stomach won't be able to handle meat.

As she eats a small portion of the bird, I see the light purple under her eyes. Her drooping eyelids. Her overall tired expression. She's been paying so much attention to healing me that she hasn't paid attention to herself.

"You didn't sleep," I say.

"I'm alright," she says, but it's obvious she's lying.

"Sleep now. I'll keep watch. I'll wake you if anything happens," I say, but she hesitates. "Katniss, you can't stay up forever."

She looks out to the dawn sky before she answers, "All right. But just for a few hours. Then you wake me."

She smoothes out the sleeping bag on the cave floor and lies on top of it, keeping her bow clutched in her hands.

"Go to sleep," I say again as I brush loose strands of hair off her forehead.

I spend the rest of the day watching her sleep and attempting to take tiny sips of water. At one time, her hands clutch into fists and her eyebrows furrow. Knowing that it's a bad dream, I rub circles on her hand with my thumb. Her hands and face relax slowly and she goes back to the way she was before – sleeping peacefully and not scowling. She looks so content that I don't bother to wake her.

She finally wakes up in the afternoon, having slept the entire day.

"Peeta, you were supposed to wake me after a couple hours," she says.

"For what? Nothing's going on here," I say. "Besides, I like watching you sleep. You don't scowl. Improves your looks a lot."

She scowls, giving me the expression I expected, and I smile. She reaches out and places the back of her hand to my cheek. "Have you had any water?"

"Plenty," I answer.

She takes one of the water bottles in her hand and then looks back to me suspiciously, then puts a few fever pills in her hand. She hands the water bottle and pills to me without a word; I know the drill by now. She begins tending to my minor wounds – the burns and the tracker jacker stings – as I take a few more sips of water.

When she unwraps my leg, her face fills with dread. It's gotten worse. Much worse. The swelling is worse than ever, and what scares me the most are the red strakes beginning to crawl from the gash.

Blood poisoning.

My heart drops into my stomach the second I realize what it is. I won't be cured without strong medicine. This medicine could cost an abundance of money on any regular day. But since the gifts go up in price as the Games go on, it could cost a fortune. Unless we can get the entire Capitol to pitch in, I'll be dead within a week.

"Well, there's more swelling, but the pus is gone," Katniss says in an unsteady voice, trying to hide how bad my situation is. She's a terrible liar.

"I know what blood poisoning is, Katniss. Even if my mother isn't a healer," I say.

"You're just going to have to outlast the others, Peeta," she tells me with determination in her voice. "They'll cure it back in the Capitol when we win."

"Yes. That's a good plan," I say.

Even if I die, hopefully Katniss will be so furious with Cato and Clove that she'll be able to kill them easily.

"You have to eat," she says. "Keep your strength up. I'm going to make you soup."

"Don't light a fire," I warn. "It's not worth it."

"We'll see," she says and she takes off running.

This is the side of Katniss that annoys me. The side that would so stupidly risk her life for my benefit. It's just soup! I can eat something else. Something that doesn't need a fire to make.

I don't even want any soup. So if she gets killed because she makes a fire for soup that I don't even want, I don't know what I would do.

I let out a sigh and shuffle on top of the sleeping bag. The heat from the afternoon makes me feel worse with the fever and my new-found disease. The thought of that ridiculous soup for which she's risking her life adds to my discomfort. Nothing about this situation will turn out good.

When she comes back through the vines that conceal the cave, relief floods through me. But at the same time, I don't want to worry her when I puke up this soup.

She puts cloths soaked in cool water on my forehead, and this helps enormously.

"Do you want anything?" she asks.

"No," I answer a bit too quickly, not wanting to trouble her. "Thank you. Wait, yes. Tell me a story."

We could use a little mood-lightening here, anyways.

"A story? What about?" she asks.

"Something happy. Tell me about the happiest day you can remember."

She sighs and thinks for a moment before speaking. "Did I ever tell you about how I got Prim's goat?"

I shake my head and wait for her to begin. She tells of her mother's silver locket that she sold to get the goat, Lady, for Prim's birthday. How she wanted the goat even though it was hurt. How Prim's reaction was proof that the goat was the perfect gift. How her mother and Prim slowly brought the goat back to good health.

"They sound like you," I say.

"Oh, no, Peeta, they work magic. That thing couldn't have died if it tried," she says.

"Don't worry. I'm not trying," I joke. "Finish the story."

"Well, that's it. only I remember that night, Prim insisted on sleeping with Lady on a blanket next to the fire. And just before they drifted off, the goat licked her on the cheek, like it was giving her a good night kiss or something," she tells me. "It was already mad about her."

"Was it still wearing the pink ribbon?" I ask.

"I think so. Why?"

"Just trying to get a picture," I say. "I can see why that day made you happy."

"Well, I knew that goat would be a little gold mine," she answers.

"Yes, of course I was referring to that, not the lasting joy you gave the sister you love so much you took her place in the reaping," I say sarcastically.

"The goat _has_ paid for itself. Several times over," she says.

"Well, it wouldn't dare do anything else after you saved its life," I say. "I intend to do the same thing."

"Really? What did you cost me again?" she asks.

"A lot of trouble. Don't worry. You'll get it all back," I joke.

"You're not making sense," she says before she puts her hand to my forehead. "You're a little cooler though."

That's obviously a lie. I feel worse than ever.

The trumpets sound and Katniss runs to the front of the cave. Claudius Templesmith invites us to a feast, which always ends in a blood bath. I would never go and I won't let Katniss go. I'll keep her here no matter , Katniss has the same idea because she gives a wave of indifference and sits back down next to me.

"Now hold on," Claudius Templesmith's voice booms throughout the arena. "Some of you may already be declining my invitation. But this is no ordinary feast. Each of you needs something desperately."

Not if Katniss and I can stay alive long enough for the other tributes to die first.

"Each of you will find that something in a backpack marked with your district number at the Cornucopia at dawn," Claudius continues. "Think hard about refusing to show up. for some of you, this will be your last chance."

I know the medicine I need is too expensive or the Gamemakers won't allow Haymitch to send it to us. We'll have to go to the cornucopia to get it. Katniss knows this too, and I know that she's planning on going. I grip Katniss's shoulder. "No," I tell her. "You're not risking your life for me."

"Who says I was?" she says.

"So, you're not going?" I ask.

"Of course I'm not going," she says. "Give me some credit. Do you think I'm running straight into some free-for-all against Cato and Clove and Thresh? Don't be stupid. I'll let them fight it out, we'll see who's in the sky tomorrow night and work out a plan from there."

"You're such a bad liar, Katniss. I don't know how you've survived this long." I mimic her tone, "_I knew that goat would be a little gold mine. You're a little cooler, though. Of course, I'm not going."_ I shake my head. "Never gamble at cards. You'll lose your last coin."

"All right, I am going, and you can't stop me!" she yells.

"I can follow you. At least partway. I may not make it to the Cornucopia, but if I'm yelling your name, I bet someone can find me. And then I'll be dead for sure."

"You won't get a hundred yards from here on that leg," she challenges.

"Then I'll drag myself. You go and I'm going too."

"What am I supposed to do?" she asks. "Sit here and watch you die?"

"I won't die. I promise. If you promise not to go."

She thinks for a moment. "Then you have to do what I say. Drink your water, wake me when I tell you, and eat every bite of soup no matter how disgusting it is!" she snaps.

"Agreed. Is it ready?" I ask, happy that I got my way.

"Wait here."

When she comes back with the soup, I keep my promise. I eat the hot soup eagerly; I even scrape the pot. I half lie by telling her how delicious the soup is, but in truth it really isn't that bad. She gives me another dose of fever medicine before heading out of the cave.

Im left to wonder if she really is planning on staying here. If I stay awake until the feast is over, I can make sure she stays here.

Katniss returns shortly with a mush of plants in her hand. "I've brought you a treat. I found a new patch of berries a little farther downstream."

Keeping my side of the bargain, I open my mouth without hesitation. The berries are so sweet they're almost sour. "They're very sweet."

"Yes, they're sugar berries. My mother makes jam from them. Havent you ever had them before?" she asks, giving my the next spoonful.

"No," I answer after I swallow the sickly sweet berries. It's strange since we make so many different types of pastries that have berries in them and I've never heard of these. "But they taste familiar. Sugar berries?"

"Well, you can't get them in the market much, they only grow wild," she says as I swallow another spoonful.

"They're sweet as syrup," I say just before the spoon passes my lips. "Syrup."

No. Sleep Syrup! This realization, her plan, and the new wave of emotion hits me all at once. I try to spit out the berries, but it's no use. Katniss already has her hands covering my mouth and nose so hard that I can't breathe, and I'm forced to swallow so I can take a breath. I try to make myself throw up the vile stuff, but I'm already drifting off to sleep.

She's going. She's going to die for me. The one time she lies and I didn't catch it could result in her death. She won't be doing me a favor. How could she do this?

* * *

><p><strong>Poor Peeta :( It's a bit weird writing a lovey-dubby scene from a guy's POV. Actually, it's really weird. It seems like many of you have been anxiously waiting for another chapter, but the next one should come up before... fall? Eh, that's a long time. But my friend travels a lot so it could be that long before I get the book back :( <strong>Anyways, leave a review if you want!<strong>**


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